


A Planet Gone Wrong

by jos_k



Series: Star Trek: The 100 [2]
Category: Star Trek, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Trek, F/F, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jos_k/pseuds/jos_k
Summary: The Federation vessel USS Ark has crash-landed on the Trigeda homeworld, a post-apocalyptic planet ravished long ago by a marauding alien species, who left its people broken and its earth stripped of metals and precious materials. It is a place where technology is unreliable and radiation covers the upper atmosphere. Now the Federation crew must learn to live with the Trigeda people and discover the mysteries of the planet in their quest to return home. And Clarke. She has intrinsically changed. Torn between her duty to her people and her profound attraction to Commander Lexa, Clarke must decide on her place in this new world.Spotify writing playlist:https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0f3Nw8I8gSIwNmHqwxWz35?si=Irn981ucSd6YVuKXfakG4A
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Niylah/Raven Reyes, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Series: Star Trek: The 100 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649236
Comments: 120
Kudos: 214





	1. Mutagenesis

**Author's Note:**

> Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.  
> Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.  
> And without feet I can make my way to you,  
> without a mouth I can swear your name.
> 
> Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you  
> with my heart as with a hand.  
> Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.  
> And if you consume my brain with fire,  
> I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood.  
> ― Rainer Maria Rilke
> 
> From the very beginning of our efforts, in understanding the biologic basis of love it has been clear that it involves reward centers in the brains. In this love and addictions (such as by drugs) are somewhat interconnected, the one key difference is that naturally rewarding activities such as love are controlled by feedback mechanisms that activate aversive centers that limit the destructive qualities of addiction seen with drugs. Love activates specific regions in the reward system. The effects include a reduction in emotional judgment and reduced fear and also reduced depression and enhanced mood.  
> \- Krishna G. Seshadri, “The neuroendocrinology of love” (2016)
> 
> Love is many things none of them logical.  
> ― William Goldman, The Princess Bride

_“I thought you were dead.” “I’m here.”_

_“I don’t want to lose you.” “You won’t.”_

_“You’ll stay with me?” “Yes.”_

It’s near midnight as Clarke makes her way down the lit corridor from her quarters on Deck 3, trying to mask her unsettled and agitated mood. She doesn’t understand how she can be so tired and so hyper at the same time. The last week had been one emergency after the other. The shuttle crash. Wells’ death. Their capture. Curing the reapers. And the Ark - the crashed and broken ship her crew had been furiously cleaning and repairing for days. Not to mention the many hours spent calibrating their equipment for this planet’s unique atmosphere and her shifts in sick bay to assist her mother in caring for the many wounded. She could probably count on both hands the number of hours of sleep she has gotten over the past four nights. 

And always in the back of her mind is Lexa - tugging at her thoughts.

Miraculously, Deck 3, which held most of the crew’s quarters, had suffered minimal damage, while engineering, many of the science labs, and the bridge were not so lucky. Clarke, carrying her medical tricorder, tries to look purposeful as she walks, as if she is reporting for duty at this late hour. But she is restless, her blood simmering under her skin. Memories flit in and out of her mind. She is thinking about the first time Lexa smiled at her. The moment she gave in to her own desire. The devastating intimacy between them. Then her thoughts compulsively return to several days ago, to the day when the Ark crashed. When they saw each other at the crash site and everything went away except the two of them. And their feverish desire.

_“The next time I have you in my bed…” “Tell me.”_

“ _I will devour you, every part of you.” “I will consume you slowly - your flesh will be mine.”_

_“I will be waiting.” “I will come.”_

She begins to walk a little faster. _I am definitely going crazy,_ she thinks. It’s been days and she is still unable to shake the impressions in her mind. The sense of promises made. And even though she is pretty sure she was imagining this silent “conversation” with Lexa, she has no doubt whatsoever about the hunger she feels when she thinks about her. The aching in her heart and throbbing between her legs are no illusions. She _must_ see her. It is imperative. Necessary. Inescapable. She remembers her goodbye with Lexa like a nightmare that she hasn’t quite been able to shake. The pit in her stomach intensifies every time she attends a strategy meeting and someone brings up the topic of escaping the planet and resuming their journey.

She thinks about her career, about the impossibility of her professional dreams and her desire for Lexa coexisting together. She cannot choose, and yet, here she is running to Lexa with complete abandon. Against direct orders. A mark on her career if she were caught. But she only experiences an empty, hollow sensation every time she visualizes herself returning to her former life on the Ark. A life without Lexa. Something about her has fundamentally changed, reorienting her in a way that once seemed unimaginable. But with everything going on around her, the emergency repairs and endless briefings, Clarke hasn’t had time to fully process it all. The only thought that has had any success in holding her attention for long is her single-minded interest to see Lexa again. 

She had been looking for a way to sneak out for days when Jasper, who had been drafted into part time guard duty while his lab is still unpowered and in shambles, let it slip to Octavia that there is a blind spot on their perimeter where he likes to go when he needs privacy. A place hidden from the sharpshooters’ line of sight and where only the patrolling guard can see. And Jasper is the patrolling guard tonight. Monty will mask their biological signals from security’s sensors at his station on the ship. Clarke left her combadge in her quarters so the ship’s sensors will assume she is there. 

_None of this would be necessary if Jaha would be reasonable_ , thinks Clarke stubbornly. The Captain had ordered all personnel restricted to the Ark camp, unless explicitly ordered otherwise. And all Federation crew were to have only minimal contacts with the Trigeda. _As if we haven’t already interfered in their culture by crashing on their planet,_ she scoffs.

Clarke makes her way to the rendezvous point, hiding herself in the shadows as she leaves the ship and creeps along the security perimeter around the Federation’s camp. Jasper is leaning against a tree when she arrives, studying a piece of phosphorescent fungi.

“It’s an interesting specimen,” Clark says casually as she approaches.

“It’s just Clarke,” he calls out softly, signaling Octavia to come out of her hiding spot. “There are some intriguing species here,” he agrees as he pockets the sample. “OK,” he says, his voice low as he gets right to business. “I’ll meet you back here at 0300, before the shift change. Don’t be late. And don’t forget the wine,” he winks, referring to their promised payment. “Jasper to Monty,” he says after hitting his combadge. “Do it.”

“Ready,” Monty responds a moment later. “The computer is set to ignore their bio signals for the next three hours.”

“OK, ladies. Have fun!” He says it slyly, looking around again to make sure they are not being watched.

“Thanks,” Clarke tells Jasper, “I owe you one.” Then she and Octavia escape the Ark and disappear into the night.

***

When Clarke and Octavia arrive at the Trigeda camp, the Trigeda guards nod when they see the two officers. The warriors appear nervous and on edge, but they enter without resistance. Clarke imagines that the sight of the Federation ship has made an impression on them. Clarke and Octavia split up once Clarke sees Lexa’s quarters. It is the same sturdy tent Clarke remembers from Tondc. She recalls Lexa telling her that she traveled with her own temporary shelter whenever she left her home at the capital. Light is streaming from the tent, but Clarke doesn’t see Gustus near the entrance. Overcome with impatient eagerness, Clarke enters, while Octavia makes her way to a group by the fire.

The room is well-lit but empty. Clarke looks around and sighs. Her heart is racing as she looks over her surroundings. She walks over to the bed and sits down, awkwardly unsure what to do with herself. It is perfectly made and looks untouched. Next to the bed is a crude divan made of cloth and wood. On it sits a rumpled blanket and a disorderly mass of pillows.

She starts to wonder what it means, but her curiosity is short-lived as Lexa walks in a moment later. She is looking down as she enters, a stormy and agitated expression on her face. It seems to Clarke that she is surrounded by crackling lightning. Clarke’s anticipation intensifies and her heart beats even more fiercely in her chest. She stands and nervously pulls her uniform jacket down into place.

“Clarke,” says Lexa with breathy surprise, looking up from her brooding. They face each other and Lexa inhales deeply. Clarke watches as her shoulders relax and her face softens into a smile. Their eyes meet, and Lexa emits a different kind of spark.

“Hi,” Clarke answers, her blue eyes fervently searching Lexa’s for some kind of confirmation of her unrelenting visions. Confirmation that Clarke isn’t making a complete fool of herself sneaking into the alien Commander’s quarters in the middle of the night like a lovesick teenager. 

“I was waiting for you,” Lexa whispers, rushing forward to embrace her.

“I know,” Clarke says softly, relieved. She rests her head on Lexa’s neck and pulls her closer so that there is no space between any part of them. “I came as soon as I could.” 

She finally feels at peace, here in Lexa’s electrifying embrace. 

***

_Ark Camp_

Abby is working late again. She is in the temporary sick bay, which is really a fancy name for the large white emergency tent set up outside the ship within their security perimeter. She is finally making time to review the away team’s blood and tissue samples and the physical reports she compiled earlier that day. She has already finished the Blake siblings, who are as robust and healthy as ever. Bellamy has recovered well from his concussion, no doubt with the help of his Klingon blood. And other than her cabin fever and pent up energy, Octavia’s vitals are all normal. She proceeds alphabetically to Clarke’s results. As she reviews the findings on her datapad, her brow starts to crinkle. Her daughter’s DNA and blood test is showing abnormal results. She moves to the refrigerator holding Clarke’s blood sample. The results are showing mutations in Clarke’s DNA, and there is an unknown foreign substance in her blood. Abby wants to see this for herself. She grabs the sample and sets it under her microscope, calming her maternal concern with her clinical experience. 

Abby trains her analytic eye intently on the sample of Clarke’s blood. 

“What? This can’t be right.”

She is not quite sure what she is looking at. There is an alien protein in her blood interfering with the signaling system in her cells. She has seen this phenomenon before, but not in humans. She must get answers immediately. 

“Commander Kane,” Abby calls over her combadge. It’s late, but she is familiar with Kane’s workaholic tendencies, as she shares them, even when the crew isn’t dealing with an emergency.

“Yes, Doctor,” he answers immediately, as if it were the middle of the afternoon, not after midnight.

“Could you report to sick bay? There’s something I’d like you to look at,” she says. Because the Ark is a science and exploration vessel, even the commanding officers are scientists. Where Jaha excels at astrophysics, Kane is an accomplished biochemist. But he has another specialty as well. 

“On my way.”

Minutes later, Kane is peering into the microscope, Abby looking over his shoulder. 

“Curious,” says Kane.

“Well?” she asks. “Is it what I think it is?”

“Yes, this alien macromolecule you found looks very similar to what my people call the _charismatum_ protein. It’s present in some form or another in the blood of most telepathic and empathic species. But I don’t understand. This blood appears human. Whose is it?”

“It’s Clarke’s,” answers Abby worriedly. “But the question is, how has Clarke’s DNA been altered to produce this molecule? Marcus, does this mean my daughter is becoming telepathic?”

“Maybe,” muses Kane. “The protein seems dormant in this sample. Weakened even. In my species, it would be reacting to our presence, responding to our emotional states. Betazoids are receptive to most species. I can see why you would want a second opinion. Perhaps it is still developing in her and needs to be activated,” he speculates. 

“I’m concerned by how the charismatum in this state seems to be weakening the rest of her blood cells,” says Abby. “The protein seems to be interfering with Clarke’s normal immunity. What would activate it?”

“All sorts of things,” answers Marcus. He suddenly recalls the nonverbal exchange he witnessed between Clarke and Lexa days ago at the crash, the electricity between them, and the palpable affection he felt cascading off of them and towards each other. “Or specific people.” 

“But how could this happen, Marcus?” Abby asks anxiously. She starts thinking about how her sick bay on the ship is still a mess, and that consequently she doesn't have access to her most sophisticated diagnostic machines.

“Listen, Abby,” he says finally, a little embarrassed. “I think there were a few details Clarke failed to mention in her report about her relationship with the Trigeda Commander.”

***

Lexa is furious. How dare they think they can just summon her back to Polis like that. She has not yet established an acceptable accord with the Federation Captain. And she would not leave without seeing Clarke again.

 _Where is she?_ Lexa knows that she wouldn’t normally let the Order get to her like this, but she has been anxious and irritable ever since that Jaha expelled Clarke from their diplomatic meeting. She was not only offended on behalf of Clarke, but for her own people as well. Clarke had earned a place of standing among the Trigeda, and Jaha was preventing them from practicing their rituals of respect and veneration.

 _That man! Bah!_ She is walking back to her tent from the far edge of camp, where she sent the Order’s messenger swiftly back home with her indelicate response. It had been two days since Lexa’s offer of alliance with the Federation was met with a lukewarm and patronizing response. She paces in the darkness, breathing in the fresh night air and doing her best to subdue her flaring temper.

 _But I can’t hold them off forever_ , Lexa contemplates, returning to the political situation in Polis. _Bah!_

She will wait as long as she must.

Lexa stops pacing and starts walking back again. She enters her quarters in a storm. When Lexa looks up from her sulking, she sees her. The effect is immediate. The impatience and frustration of the past few days evaporates when she sees Clarke standing there, near the bed that Lexa couldn’t sleep in without her. 

But that was then. Clarke is here now. And Lexa forgets why she was so angry.

Holding her in her arms, she kisses Clarke’s cheek and neck, feeling the electricity building between them. Then Clarke reaches for Lexa’s hand with hers, entwining their fingers before looking up at her lips, hungry. Lexa meets Clarke’s hunger with her own, parting her lips and surrendering to Clarke’s burning kiss. 

In her kiss, Lexa tells Clarke about the pressure that had built up in her, the exhausting struggle to maintain her self-discipline, and her reliance on her duty to combat the aching coldness left by Clarke’s absence. Clarke shares her own sense of loss, the dread and the ache as if she were missing a piece of herself, the exhilaration she felt when she saw Lexa again, and the impatience boiling over the last few days. They tell each other everything they felt from the moment they said goodbye to each other until now. And as they feast on each other’s lips, they are restored.

They kiss for perhaps twenty minutes, bodies pressed tight and hands everywhere. Neither moves towards the bed. Not yet. They hold each other closely, standing in the candlelight and basking in each other’s presence. They continue in their world of lips and tongues. They still have so much more left to say.

***

“What do you mean _left out of her report_?” Abby asks Marcus, accusation dripping from her voice.

“Ah. Well, you see,” he clears his throat. “ I normally try to preserve people’s privacy, but it seems we don’t have that luxury at the moment.

“Spit it out, Marcus,” orders Abby.

“I believe your daughter and the Trigeda Commander may be _involved._ As in, _romantically_.”

“Why would you think that? Did you read something from them?” 

“You could say that, though read is a bit strong. To an empath it was as if they were shouting their feelings at the top of their lungs. I haven’t had time to bring it up yet with Clarke. I don’t know where their relationship stands, but something definitely happened between them. When the Commander came with her delegation, I felt it again between them. And even though I sense that Lexa is almost as skilled as a vulcan in controlling her emotional reactions, she was quite upset when the Captain expelled Clarke from the talks.”

“Clarke has seemed distracted,” says Abby with amazement. “Do you think that her...contact...with this Trigeda woman has altered Clarke’s DNA to produce this charismatum protein?”

“Inter-species contact has produced stranger things, Doctor. We can’t count it out. But we also can’t rule out some kind of contact with other plant or animal life on this planet.”

“I need to start running some tests to figure this out. Computer, where is Lt. Griffin?”

“Lt. Griffin is in her quarters,” answers the computer in her metallic voice.

“Let’s not bother her. It’s late,” argues Kane. “She deserves to get some rest. This doesn’t seem to be life-threatening. We will figure this out in the morning.”

“You’re right, Marcus. Let her get some rest,” concedes Abby. But it will be hours before she lets herself do the same.

***

Clarke is lying in Lexa’s bed, not quite sure how she got there. But it doesn’t matter how. Lexa is here, lying on top of her, her tongue tracing a line from the base of her neck to her ear. She is whispering something, but Clarke can’t quite make out the words. All Clarke can hear is Lexa’s aching want. She feels as though she is caught in flames, burning to ash, only to find herself back again - burning. Lexa’s lips are now back on hers and she is bearing down with her thigh onto Clarke’s swollen clit. The fire intensifies with her pleasure. Her desire.

She kisses Lexa more deeply, tongue pressing forcefully, and she digs her fingernails into her back. _Please_ . She is begging now. _Don’t make me wait any longer._ But the only sounds she can make are the involuntary and breathy moans she hears as if they are coming from someone else. Lexa is her only world right now.

And then Lexa is up. Pulling off Clarke’s shoes, her pants, jacket, everything. She is ferociously pulling at her uniform with determined purpose. When she is done, she tears off her own clothes and returns to Clarke in the bed. She kisses her again, their bare breasts pressing against each other, bare legs interlocked. Clarke can feel Lexa’s breath in the steady movement of her undulating belly. Clarke is enveloped in the softness of Lexa’s flesh and skin. Enveloped in the earnestness of Lexa’s feelings towards her. Lexa feels so good against her, it is almost painful. Now Lexa’s lips are sucking on her nipple and she doesn’t think her body can hold anymore.

_Please._

The shock of Lexas tongue on her clit is enough to force a spasm to run all the way to the crown of Clarke’s head, down to the tips of her toes. She breathes in sharply as Lexa’s tongue begins its rhythmic journey up and down her wet and hungry cunt. When the first orgasm washes over her and her skin tingles with electricity, Lexa takes Clarke under her left arm, cradling her head, and lies on top of her before she gently guides three fingers into Clarke. Clarke is helpless. Vulnerable. Her heart is overflowing. Lexa rocks in and out of Clarke, her fingers sliding easily within her, while she holds her firmly and tenderly. Lexa kisses her and Clarke can smell herself on Lexa’s lips.

_Lexa, I -_

But she can’t finish her thought. She is melting under Lexa’s rhythmic touch, her fingers, her lips - all of it. Lexa has built Clarke to such a frenzy that she has obliterated the higher functions of Clarke’s brain. She is all animal now. Instinct. Desire. She starts to come. When she is finally done screaming out the pent up energy from the past few days of ache, waiting to see Lexa, the only instinct left is hunger. Her need to eat.

Once Clarke finds the feeling back in her body again, her fingers creep to Lexa’s dripping hot pussy. It is so wet that Clarke’s hunger turns ravenous. She teases Lexa’s clit, touching it only softly. So very softly. Lexa begins to squirm on top of her and her breathing becomes heavy again. Clarke nibbles on Lexa’s ear, slowly adjusting their bodies around until she is on top.

Now Lexa is begging for mercy. She can hear her whispering her name. _Clarke._

Clarke sucks on Lexa’s nipples, one then the other. She cradles Lexa’s breasts as she bites lightly on each nipple, and Lexa’s pleas intensify. And still, Clarke rubs and strokes Lexa’s clit lightly, penetrating her ever so slightly, and back again. Clarke’s lips continue further, finding Lexa’s taut belly. She licks around her belly button and sucks hard near her hip, leaving a deep red mark.

Lexa is too overcome to plead any longer. She is panting and thrashing.

Clarke moves to Lexa’s inner thigh, licking her everywhere except the one place she craves most of all. Where before everything was fire, now Clarke is swimming in the ecstasy of Lex’s pleasure. Clarke’s mouth waters as she breathes her scent in.

 _Clarke._ She can feel Lexa’s longing. Her need for release.

 _Lexa._ She kisses Lexa’s pelvis, near her hip bone _. Lexa._ She kisses her thigh. Her mouth finds Lexa’s waiting pussy and she begins to groan. Clarke sucks on her clit before flicking it lighty with her tongue. She presses her face closer, pressing her tongue into Lexa, then licking upwards. She teases, bringing Lexa to the brink only to back off and build her up again. When she finally pushes her fingers into Lexa’s waiting interior, Lexa’s breathing intensifies. Clarke’s entire lower face is covered in Lexa now, and as Clarke inhales her scent, she only wants more. Lexa’s building climax throws her into another frenzy. Lexa comes in a series of short, low grunts, which progress higher and higher until her body tenses and quivers. Clarke continues. Adding another finger, she pushes into Lexa more intensely, back and forth until she is screaming. Lexa’s orgasm crashes into Clarke. With her other hand, she strokes her own cliteris and begins to scream in unison with Lexa, each intensifying the other.

A tranquil silence settles over them as they relax into the bed and catch their breath. Clarke nuzzles into Lexa’s breasts. Their sweating bodies stick to each other. She reaches over with her left hand and grabs Lexa’s right hand, entwining their fingers. Contentment sweeps over them both, washing away the sores each carried within. 

“Clarke,” Lexa says softly after a while. “I must return home soon. I should have gone back days ago, but I couldn’t leave…” She stops. “I want you to come with me. To Polis. Will you come?” Clarke can feel Lexa’s desperate hope, her longing for Clarke. She can feel her fear too.

“Lexa.” Clarke is struggling with her emotions. “It’s not my decision. I’ve been ordered to stay away from your people. I’m already breaking those orders tonight.”

“I know,” whispers Lexa. “But do you _want_ to come with me? If I could arrange it, would you want to come?”

_Yes. More than anything._

Clarke looks up at Lexa’s face and kisses her. She kisses her again and again until Lexa’s heart questions her no more.


	2. Caught

Octavia cloaks herself in the darkness of the forest, feeling clumsy and conspicuous next to Lincoln, who is hovering behind her. The reddish brown furred creature in the clearing before them is foraging in the brush, paws digging up the dirt for smaller mammals and insects. Lincoln places his arms around Octavia and holds her hands in the correct position on the bow, drawing back the string with the appropriate force for the shot. Her heart starts to pound. Together, they hold the bow steady and aim it towards the animal. She releases the arrow and watches as it whizzes past, just missing her target.

“That was better,” Lincoln says, encouragement in his voice. He had been drilling her on the use of a bow for about an hour at the camp before they slipped into the woods to try her aim on a moving target. She was eager to learn his people’s weapons, explaining something about being cooped up in her ship without a holodeck and needing a diversion. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw her walk up to the campfire, her face animated and aglow in the firelight. He had hoped that by volunteering for Lexa’s delegation that he would see her again. Her strength and boisterous spirit had left an impression on him.

Octavia smiles widely at Lincoln, planting a kiss on his cheek. She notices in the bright moonlight that the sizable bruise she left on the base of his neck has not fully healed. Lincoln returns her smile as he returns her kiss, placing his hand gently behind her throat as he presses his lips onto hers. She drops the bow to the ground and wraps her arms around him.

Octavia’s blood quickens as she suddenly feels the urge to take out all of her restless energy on Lincoln’s muscular body. She growls low. Lincoln responds instantly, pressing her against a tree and kissing her again more passionately. She throws him violently to the ground and takes him right there on the bare forest floor. The damage she inflicts is a price Lincoln willingly pays.

About a half an hour later, Octavia is surveying her work before she starts her walk back to the Trigeda camp. His neck is bleeding and there are sure to be bruises on his legs and back. Feeling satisfied, she leaves a wrecked Lincoln, who is still prone and catching his breath. She knows she has more time, but she doesn’t want to press her luck with this little outing. Besides, she feels a strange sense of gratification leaving him there like that, half broken and wanting more. And she doesn’t think that he will be able to get up for a while anyway.

When she arrives back to the Trigeda camp alone, she approaches the guards at the entrance, as everyone else had already retired. Their moods had improved since she last saw them, and they are chatting jovially while passing a bottle of wine back and forth. She nods and joins them in a drink. Realizing that Clarke will probably forget to secure the wine for Jasper and Monty, she asks the guards if they would kindly share a bottle. They are happy to oblige. She lingers there for a few minutes more, enjoying the fire and invigorating early morning morning air. She feels the last of her pent up energy draining away with every breath.

Then, with wine in hand, Octavia creeps back to the Ark, almost a half hour earlier than planned. She meets no resistance as she slips inside the perimeter and successfully makes it back undetected to her quarters.

***

Clarke wakes with a start and looks at her watch on the table next to Lexa’s bed. Goosebumps form on her arm after leaving the warmth of the covers.

“Fuck,” she exclaims. She has two minutes until she is supposed to be back at the rendezvous point.  _ I can’t believe I fell asleep _ , she groans to herself. 

Lexa is lying on her chest, arms wrapped around her and breathing steadily. Warmth spills out of Clarke and she takes a moment to hold Lexa in her arms while she sleeps. Daring not to wait any longer, she kisses the top of her head. Stroking her back lightly, she calls her name quietly. She traces her fingers along Lexa’s tattoos, drawing circles along the natural patterns of her skin. 

“Lexa,” she calls again. As Lexa begins to stir, Clarke extracts herself gently from underneath her and hurries out of bed. “Fuck,” she repeats. She grabs her uniform from the floor and hastily gets dressed. As she’s washing her hands and face with the bowl of fresh water by the bedside, Lexa wakes and lazily turns in bed to watch Clarke as she prepares to leave. Her athletic figure is picturesque in the candlelight, only half covered by the blankets. 

“Do you have to go so soon?” Lexa asks sleepily. Clarke almost forgets what she is doing when she turns to face her. If she felt dehydrated when she entered Lexa's tent, she is overbrimming as she leaves.

“I’m already late,” Clarke answers, taking in the sight before her.  _ How can she be so beautiful?  _ Clarke thinks to herself. “Listen,” she says, walking back towards the bed. She kisses Lexa deeply before continuing. She gazes into her green eyes, feeling herself fall more and more. “Lexa, I-” She loses her nerve.  _ Crap _ . She clears her throat. “Lexa, I hope I see you again soon. I’ll be thinking of you.”

Lexa looks her in the eye, without guard or pretense. “You will never leave my mind, Clarke.” They look at each other for a moment, each acknowledging the simple truth of their affection. Then Lexa smiles and kisses both of her hands at once. Clarke’s heart swells, a reverberation that touches every cell in her body. “Now go.”

It takes all of Clarke’s self-discipline to drag herself away from Lexa’s gravitational pull. When she is finally able to reach escape velocity and force herself towards the door, she feels like she is in free fall. She turns to look at Lexa once more, lying naked in their bed.  _ Their _ bed because Clarke now knows that Lexa won’t sleep in it without her. Clarke smiles widely at Lexa before she goes, telling her with her eyes what she can’t yet say with her lips. Lexa answers her back in kind.

Before she goes, she tells Lexa one last thing. “Some advice - with Jaha you have to appeal to his reason. He thinks the best way for us to survive and obey our Prime Directive is to isolate ourselves. You must tell him how he is wrong using strategy and logic. It’s the only way to convince him of anything. I know you can do it.” And Clarke believes it. 

With reluctance and great effort, she then leaves Lexa’s tent and plunges herself into the chilly early morning air. It is 3:10. She’s late, but worst of all, she has forgotten the wine. She carefully makes her way through the darkness back to the blind spot into the Ark camp. The sky is clear and the starlight is bright, so she manages to walk the short distance through the woods without serious injury.

She walks up to the rendezvous point wearing a dopey smile, feeling rested after her short nap with Lexa. Clarke can still feel her arms draped around her. Her smile widens. Her daydreaming prevents her from noticing Bellamy nonchalantly leaning against a tree, watching her approach with a scowl.

“You’re late, Princess.”

_ Fuck _ . “Hey Bellamy.” She is more annoyed than anything else.  _ Why can’t he just let me have this? _

“You know I can’t let this slide,” he says at her glower. “This isn’t the away mission anymore, Clarke. You get that, right? We aren’t just here on our own. We have the whole crew to think about. Discipline and duty are what’s keeping everyone together.” He clenches his jaw as he says, “I’m going to have to report this, Clarke.”

“How did you know?” she asks, feeling the resignation creep up on her.

“Are you kidding me?” Bellamy looks at her incredulously. “You really think those knuckleheads would outsmart me? Me? That I don’t know my own blind spots? Anyway, I’m just surprised it took you this long. I’ve been staking out this spot at the shift change since last night. And I’m pretty pissed I had to wait an extra night, by the way,” he huffs. “How did I know? For fuck’s sake, Clarke. Have you seen you when you are around Lexa?”

Clarke says nothing. He has a point.

“Besides,” he laughs, breaking the tension. “You should be thanking me, Princess.”

“Thanking you?” she says petulantly, still annoyed that she will have to deal with Kane and Jaha after this.

“I  _ could _ have decided to bust you while you were sneaking out, instead of while you were sneaking back in,” he says pointedly, looking her in the eye. “Just so you know, I do take our friendship seriously.”

Clarke exhales loudly, before mumbling “Thanks, Bell.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go back to your quarters and get some sleep. Kane will have the report on his datapad by 0700,” he replies as he starts walking back to his temporary security station on the ship. “I hope it was worth it, Griffin,” he says looking back and waving his hand goodbye.

Clarke smiles to herself.  _ It was worth it, Bell. _ She takes a deep breath of the crisp night air and walks back to her quarters, falling asleep the instant her head hits her pillow. In her dreams, she dreams of Lexa. 

***

When Clarke’s alarm goes off at 6:30, she feels more rested than she has felt in days, despite the fact that she had only a half a night’s sleep. She feels buoyant, even as she prepares herself for the reprimand ahead of her. Since the sonic showers have not yet been modified to operate under this planet’s conditions, she has to make do with a sponge bath. She relives the moments of Lexa’s lips on each part of her body as she runs the wash cloth over it. She washes her stomach and breasts, feeling Lexa’s soft skin against them. Lexa’s kiss on her neck. She can almost feel Lexa’s presence in the room wth her. Wanting her.

“Clarke, report to sickbay,” Abby calls over the intercom. 

She shakes herself out of her daydream and grabs a fresh uniform. “On my way,” she answers, and hastily gets dressed.

She bounces down the corridor and out of the ship, squinting when she emerges from the artificial light into the bright morning sun. Brimming with vitality, she breathes in the morning air and strides confidently towards sickbay to report to her mother. 

“I’m here,” she says as she walks over to Abby and plants a kiss on her cheek from behind. 

Abby, astonished, turns to greet her daughter. The sudden show of affection is surprising but welcome. 

“What did you need?” she asks. “I thought I wasn’t due for my shift until later this afternoon.” Clarke is doing her best to appear professional, but she is still basking from Lexa’s company last night. And now that they have settled things between them, Clarke’s bad tempered edge has evaporated like the morning dew.

Abby looks Clarke over skeptically, and Clarke fidgets under her sideways glance. “You’re in a good mood. Did you get some rest last night?” Abby is inclined to be suspicious when it comes to Clarke.

“I did,” answers Clarke, not lying.

“Clarke? Is there something you would like to tell me?” Her mother’s look tells Clarke that she knows something.

But Clarke knows this game well. Abby is fishing, and Clarke will not take the bait.

“Hm?” She hopes her face isn’t turning red. She has no idea what to even tell her mother. She hasn’t even had this conversation with herself yet.  _ Mom, I’m pretty sure I have feelings for the pre warp alien Commander who has asked to take me away from here to her home in her capital and I said yes.  _ Yeah, no. Abby will have to force this out of her.

“Lt. Griffin.” Abby stops playing games. “There was an irregularity in your blood analysis. Now I recognize that there are times when it can be awkward being both your mother and your doctor. But Clarke, I need you to talk to me. Your DNA is mutating and we need to figure out why and how to stop it.”

Of all the things Clarke expected her mother to say, genetic mutation was not one of them. “Wait..what’s happening to me?”

“Your body is producing a new protein, Clarke. It looks like the same protein responsible for the telepathic and empathic abilities in other species, like the Betazed. Commander Kane agrees,” she pauses so that what she is saying can sink in. “He thinks it might have something to do with your relationship with the Trigeda woman, Lexa.” Abby starts to look uncomfortable. “We think your contact with her may be somehow causing this. I want to take more of your blood, so that I can see if there are any changes over time from the last sample I took.” She turns her back on Clarke and she can hear her gathering her supplies onto a tray. “I’m just glad the Captain has ordered the crew to avoid the Trigeda. For all we know, additional proximity with Lexa could accelerate the changes. Now Clarke, you know I don’t like to pry into your personal affairs, but I need to know - were you and Lexa  _ intimate _ ?”

“Yes,” Clarke answers absentmindedly. It is so obvious, yet it hadn’t occurred to her. She really wasn’t imagining it. She sits down. She starts to look at her interactions with Lexa in a new light. “But what does it mean?” Clarke realizes that she can  _ still _ feel Lexa. She thought she was just being a romantic fool. But her mother is now telling her that the sense of connection she feels with Lexa is the expression of a telepathic and empathic bond. Which is changing her DNA?

“I don’t know Clarke. But we’ll figure this out. Commander Kane is lending me his expertise to figure out if we can reverse these genetic changes.”

And as if answering to his name, Kane strides into sick bay looking like a disappointed father when he sees Clarke. The laugh lines around his eyes are punctuated by the heavy dark lines underneath. Clarke knows he isn’t sleeping.

Lt. Griffon,” he starts, more formally than usual. “Of all the insubordinate, irresponsible, thoughtless, and short-sighted things you could do.” His look is bearing down on her, and Clarke can’t help but shrink just a little. She knows he is not wrong. But she was not oblivious to the risk she was taking last night. She regrets nothing.

“What happened?” asks Abby, returning to her earlier suspicions. “What did you do this time?” Abby is no stranger to her daughter’s proclivity towards bending the rules. She is not the type to view her child with rose-covered glasses.

“Did you want me to tell her?” Kane asks when Clarke says nothing.

“I saw Lexa last night.” Clarke is not inclined to make this easy for them.

“She snuck out and spent the night at the Trigeda camp. Against the Captain’s direct orders. And before receiving medical clearance after her away mission. Lieutenant, can you please explain to me what you were thinking?” Kane’s gaze hones in on Clarke, and she can feel his empathic senses scrutinizing her every reaction.

_ That’s new, _ she thinks, as she starts to pay greater attention to the sensations developing within. 

“I made a choice,” answers Clarke, clear-eyed. “I needed to see her.”

“Hold still,” orders Abby as she sticks the needle into Clarke's arm, drawing her blood. She is in no mood to coddle her daughter. 

“I’m going to have to brief the Captain,” Kane sighs. He has been trying to give Jaha the space to mourn his son. Vulcan or no, the death of a child is overwhelming. Kane has been picking up the extra slack and only involving the Captain when absolutely necessary. The Captain has not complained about the arrangement. 

“Tell me, Clarke. What are you experiencing?” Kane attunes himself to Clarke’s energy, gently delving into the undercurrents of her mind.

Clarke closes her eyes and confronts the background noise in her head. She reviews her night with Lexa and focuses her attention on the feeling.  _ That _ feeling. The one that felt like a tether leading directly to the Trigeda camp. Directly to Lexa.

“Closeness,” she answers, opening her eyes. “I know what she is feeling. I know I can trust her. I know that leaving her is...difficult. But I thought that this was just a normal part of...” She is too embarrassed to openly admit her feelings out loud.

Kane nods. “Dr. Griffin, I suggest we take a look at Clarke’s blood. I believe we will find that the charismatum molecule is behaving differently today.”

And sure enough, when Abby peers at the blood through the microscope, she finds that the behavior of the molecule has changed. Drastically. Where it was inactive and sluggish before, now it is actively at work delivering more oxygen to Clarke’s blood. Her plasma’s mitochondria are also showing higher levels of activity. 

As Abby shares the results with Commander Kane, Clarke sits in sickbay feeling like a grounded child whose parents are discussing her fate in front of her.

“I’m going to need to analyze your blood and DNA further,” Abby concludes. “In the meantime, as the Chief Medical Officer, Lt. Griffon, I am confining you to your quarters, excepting your duty shifts in sickbay. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” answers Clarke. 

“We will talk later,” says Kane as Clarke leaves sickbay to return to her quarters on the ship. Clarke is glad for the space. She has a lot to think about.

  
  
  
  



	3. Bonds

“In accepting the inevitable, one finds peace,” Thelonius Jaha chants to himself, seated in meditation, an oil lamp burning in front of him. His new quarters with the rest of the crew on Deck 3 is smaller than he is accustomed, but the loss of his home is a trifle compared to the loss of his son. His child. A part of himself, without whom he could not be whole. That is a much greater adjustment.

Jaha had had to make one other such adaptation in his life, ten years ago when his mate and Wells’ mother died. His family had been his identity, and now Jaha finds himself alone. His identity incomplete. He practises the techniques taught to him as a child to quell his emotions and find peace inside his logical mind. And as the depth of his pain threatens to swallow him whole, Jaha must recite the proverb again and again. The pain does not subside.

He is interrupted in his meditation by his doorbell.  _ Early for Kane’s usual briefing _ , he thinks.

“Come,” he calls out, mastering his demeanor.

Kane enters, accompanied by Doctor Griffin. Abby appears in her normal excitable state, something obviously weighing on her mind. Jaha prepares himself for whatever crisis is coming. Kane would not have disturbed him otherwise.

Moments later, once they have debriefed him of the situation, Jaha must suppress a different emotion. “Just what are they teaching the cadets at Starfleet Academy these days?” Jaha’s face is severe after Kane informs him about Clarke’s situation and her connection to Lexa. Furthermore, after speaking to the rest of the away team, it has come out under delicate interrogation that both of the Blake siblings had also had dalliances with members of the Trigeda. “In my time we were discouraged from such liaisons.” Granted, Thelonious Jaha  _ had  _ attended Starfleet Academy more than sixty years ago, before even their parents had been born.

“Still, only Clarke’s DNA is showing any mutations. Bellamy and Octavia’s results are normal. We’re not sure what is different about Clarke’s relationship with Lexa. Or perhaps Lexa herself is the source of the difference. Alternatively, it could be something else entirely. We simply need to run more tests,” Kane says finally.

“Doctor, do you have anything to add?” Jaha asks.

“Clarke’s DNA has undergone further changes since she last saw Lexa. Their contact seems to have accelerated the changes, which is one reason why we suspect Lexa is the cause. At this point the changes are not harming her, per se. It all begs the question, however, what would happen to Clarke if she were kept from Lexa? And what if we are unable to revert her DNA back to normal? We have no idea what the implications would be.” 

“One question at a time, Doctor,” Jaha instructs. “We should focus on finding the cause. We need to know if this presents a danger to the rest of the crew. We should continue to limit our interactions with the Trigeda.”

“Agreed. I also suggest that we request that the Commander provide us with a blood sample to analyze and to allow for Abby to scan her with our diagnostic equipment. She sent a messenger just now requesting a meeting with you. I will go to her camp and make the request. Do you agree to see her if that is her condition?” Kane asks.

“Yes,” answers Jaha simply. “Though I doubt we have very much to talk about.”

“Then it's decided,” Abby interjects. “I will go prepare my lab for Lexa.” Jaha nods and Abby leaves as excitable as she came in.

“Thelonious, I can feel your struggle,” Kane says after a while. Jaha is silent, face imperceptible.

_ I grieve with thee _ , Kane tells Jaha telepathically, following Vulcan custom. Since Jaha is now the only Vulcan on the Ark, Kane, as a close friend and fellow telepath, offers himself to Jaha to share in his grief. Jaha nods and, using both hands, places his fingers on the trigger points of the mind meld on each of Kane’s cheeks and temples. They look at each other intently as they share their memories of Wells with the other. Kane watches as Wells is born, as he grows from a child to a man, as he learns the ways of logic and masters his own mind. Their years together on the Ark. The news of his death. Kane watches it all, sharing in the triumphs and losses with his friend. Sharing in his pain. 

When it is over, Jaha removes his hands cradling his friend's face and repeats his mantra to himself,  _ In accepting the inevitable, one finds peace _ . This time, he can feel his emotions subside, clearing his mind. He retreats back into his logic.

So it is with great calm that he says, “I want to retrieve his body.”

“Aye, Sir,” answers Kane, ready to follow him anywhere.

***

Lexa is lying spread eagle on her couch, arms and legs spread wide and hanging off the sides. She had let herself fall backward moments earlier, after sending her messenger to the Ark with her request for an audience. She sighs heavily. She knows she can’t just lie there all morning thinking about Clarke. She must plan her strategy well or risk going back to Polis without her. And that is not an option. Not one Lexa wants to think about anyway. 

Still. One moment more wouldn’t hurt. She allows herself the luxury of being Lexa before she would have to become the Commander again. She fantasizes about Clarke. She thinks of the past, but also the future. She smiles as she thinks about where she wants to take her in Polis. About showing her her world. Her favorite places. Lexa’s heart lurches and her cheeks get very hot. She falls in on herself and, still, she reaches further within. When she finds Clarke, the heat overtakes her. As she feels her self-control slipping away, she grapples to compose her mind. Before she can dream further into the future, she must solve the problems of today. Now is the time to think with her head and not her heart. 

She considers what Clarke has told her of her people. The United Federation of Planets. A people made up of many worlds who explore the stars. A people much more advanced than her own ancestors and possibly as advanced as the Evil Ones who destroyed her planet. She considers what Clarke has told her about her austere Captain and her people’s principle of noninterference with peoples less advanced than them.  _ Pre warp. _

Gradually, a strategy formulates. She pulls herself out of bed and starts to pace as she contemplates her approach to Jaha’s refusal to align. His insistence that Clarke must be restricted from participating in Trigeda society. She must give him good reason to change his stance. For, their affection for each other would do neither of them any good if they are forbidden from ever meeting again.  _ No, _ Lexa resolves to herself,  _ I will not let that happen. Clarke will not let that happen. Our bond is too strong. _

She sighs again. Getting Clarke to Polis would be only the first challenge they would face. There is also the Order to consider. Lexa has no illusions about the parade of engaging, well connected, and beautiful “aides” that were constantly being assigned to her in Polis. They are clearly hoping to arrange a bonding for Lexa themselves, that one of their chosen eventually catches Lexa’s eye. Part of her pleasure in coming to Tondc in the first place was the joy of being away from such nonsense. At least she thought it was nonsense until she met Clarke. She thought her heart had been irreparably destroyed after Costia. The idea of finding happiness with another woman had never crossed her mind in the two years since Costia’s death. And there were certainly no stories of a Commander bonding more than once in their lifetime. She thought it just wasn’t something that ever happened, and she was prepared to spend the rest of her life alone.

But the Order obviously had different plans for her. She has never understood why the Mother Superior would meddle in her affairs in such a way. Though she raised Lexa from a child and Lexa calls her “Mother,” theirs was never a maternal relationship. Lexa doubts that she is pushing her into an arranged bonding for sentimental concerns for Lexa’s wellbeing. The Mother Superior has an ulterior reason for everything she does. And Lexa suspects that her bond with Clarke will not be received with great enthusiasm or happiness for Lexa. She and Clarke will have to think carefully about this particular political matter. 

“Heda,” interrupts Gustus outside. “Commander Kane is here to see you.”

_ One challenge at a time. _ Pleased to finally be moving forward with her plans, Lexa leaves her quarters for her throne room to meet the waiting Kane.

***

“Commander Kane,” Lexa says with a slight bow of her head as she enters.

“Commander Lexa,” Kane returns. He scrutinizes her more closely than on past meetings. Though she has shown no deception on previous occasions, Kane wants to get a better understanding of the Trigeda leader, so he delves more deeply into her emotional mind and increases his sensitivity to her emotional state. Kane is a talented empath even among his own people. 

“Has the Captain agreed to meet me?” Lexa asks, getting right to the matter most occupying her mind. Kane can tell that her aloof demeanor is just a mask concealing her resolve.

“Ah, that’s not why I came, Commander,” Kane answers. “I came about Clarke.” At Clarke’s name, Kane can feel Lexa’s attention sharpen. “After a routine medical examination, we have discovered that she is carrying alien substances in her blood that are mutating her DNA. Our Doctor is concerned for her welfare because we don’t quite understand what is happening to her.” He pauses. “We know that she was here last night. We would like to run some tests on you to rule out whether you are the cause of the mutation or not.” As Kane finishes, he can feel a wave of disquiet spill out of Lexa and fill the room. Curiously, he doesn’t experience it as the usual psychic meeting of minds. He feels the restlessness as if it were his own emotion, and not the emotion of another, even as it is clearly emanating from Lexa. 

Lexa considers him carefully. He can see that she is deciding whether she can trust what he says about Clarke. He knows that she saw Clarke only this morning, healthy. So, in the manner common among his people, Kane telepathically invites Lexa to search his motivations. He can feel as her attention hones in on his intentions, searching for deceit or mal intent. He makes himself as transparent as possible to her probing gaze.

“We shall leave right away, Commander Kane. Take me to your Doctor for these tests,” Lexa orders, straightening her back and looking resolute. She is in command. Kane finds in his enhanced sensitivity that he feels  _ almost _ compelled to obey her. Not as if he is being coerced, but again as if the idea to obey had come from his own mind.  _ We must protect Clarke. _ Kane distances his empathic senses from Lexa.

_ Curious indeed, _ Kane muses. “This way Commander,” he says, before leading her and her guard Gustus into the Ark camp to meet Doctor Griffin. He watches as Lexa’s people straighten as she passes, mirroring her own steely resolve. 

***

Abby waits anxiously in sickbay to hear back from Kane. She remembers little about the imposing Commander, other than waking up at her feet after the crash. Kane later told her that Lexa had carried her out of the burning ship. She also remembers seeing Clarke there in all of the chaos, but she and Lexa hadn’t said a word to each other, so Abby hadn’t thought much about it since. She considers the moment again in light of recent discoveries. 

“Kane to Doctor Griffin. I am on my way with the Commander.”

“Understood.”

Abby straightens her white coat and ponytail. Regardless of the fact that this woman is evidently sleeping with her daughter, she is still a head of state and Abby will treat her as such. Minutes later, Kane enters with Lexa. He is looking at her with the intent gaze of an empath and Abby realizes that there is an additional sense available to Kane as a Betazed, which enriches his experience with other humanoids. Abby considers that her daughter is now gaining that same ability to one extent or another. And she wonders for the first time whether Clarke will even want to reverse the changes to her DNA.

Lexa approaches Abby and respectfully bows her head. “Doctor, I have come as you asked. What do you need me to do?” Her expression is stoic but her eyes give her away. Abby doesn’t need psychic powers to see that she is concerned about Clarke. 

“Thank you for coming so soon,” Abby begins. “Please, sit here. I am going to draw your blood and run some scans. Is that acceptable?”

Lexa nods and follows Abby’s instructions.

“I am told that you are the one who saved me from the fire,” Abby says at last after she has taken a sample of Lexa’s blood and started scanning her with her tricorder.

“When I first saw you buried under the rubble, I thought you were Clarke,” Lexa admits, blushing only slightly. 

“Well,” Abby laughs, “that doesn’t make your intention or your deed any less appreciated. You still pulled me out. So, you thought Clarke was on the ship when it crashed?” Abby is suddenly much more curious about the Commander.

Lexa nods, clenching her jaw. She hesitates, then finally asks “Is Clarke ill? Is she going to be OK?” Lexa looks at her with such intensity that Abby suddenly understands that Lexa will not give up on Clarke easily. And her mother’s intuition tells her that with or without a telepathic connection, Clarke will not give up easily on Lexa. Abby grieves for her daughter and her star-crossed love affair. For she has no doubt that their crew will find a way off of this planet.

“Clarke is not currently in any danger, that we know. But we don’t quite understand what is happening to her. We hope that these tests will enlighten us,” Abby admits truthfully. 

“Can I see her?” Lexa asks tentatively. “To see for myself?”

“The Captain has forbidden it,” Abby answers. “We need to figure out if contact with you and your species is causing the mutation.”

Lexa takes a silent breath. “Your people keep using this word, mutation. Can you explain it to me? What exactly is happening to Clarke?”

Abby crinkles her nose. She is not sure how to explain it so that Lexa will understand. So she starts from the basics. “Living things have what we call DNA. Humanoids usually inherit their DNA from their parents. Our DNA determines our physical features and the functioning of our bodies. A mutation is a change to a person’s DNA. Clarke’s DNA has changed and so now her body is creating new alien proteins,” Abby finishes.  _ Proteins which seem to be directly related to you _ , she thinks. “We are still learning the effects of this mutation on her health.” 

Abby can tell that Lexa is focusing on her words, doing her best to understand what she is saying, in all its implications.

After a while, Lexa’s face resumes its stoic continence and she says, “Clarke has told me much about your skill as a healer, Doctor Griffin. I believe you will find your answers.”

Lexa’s confidence in her is so unflinching that Abby herself feels reassured by Lexa’s faith in her ability. Speechless, she simply nods in return.  _ Remarkable. _

“Finished,” she says as she runs her last scan.

“Good,” Lexa returns. “Now,” she says turning to Kane, who had been observing silently from across the room, “take me to your Captain.”

***

Clarke is pacing her room, deep in thought. If she were allowed out of her quarters, she would take a walk in the fresh air to clear her mind. Earlier, she had felt Lexa reach out to her. Calling to her. She felt it as she feels the ache in her own heart. She felt it in the place that knows what Lexa is feeling like she understands her own emotions. She tries to disentangle herself from her connection with Lexa, even as a part of her longs to be closer still. But whether she feels the link or not, whether Lexa feels close or far away, Clarke knows now that she already loves her. She loved her before she started sensing her thoughts. She has been off balance, in fact, since the moment she laid eyes on Lexa.

_ What am I going to do? What kind of idiot lets something like this happen? _ Clarke berates herself under her breath in her travels back and forth across her quarters. It is only a half-hearted reprimand, though. Her sureness in Lexa’s mutual affection for her can’t help but buoy her mood. And even as she feels heavy and concerned for her situation, she finds herself desperately hoping that she is right about Lexa’s ability to convince her Captain to let her go to Polis. She wants it more than anything.  _ Stupid stupid sentimental idiot. _ A stupid smiling sentimental idiot.

Clarke finally stops pacing and collapses on her bed. She lets herself daydream about her time with Lexa. She doesn’t have the will to fight herself any longer, so she saves it for another day. She slips into the whirling dervish of her emotions, feeling light-headed, tipsy, radiant. She lies like that for several minutes, feeling herself be swept away by the currents. Then, in an instant, she knows that Lexa is close.

_ She’s on the ship. She’s going to talk to Jaha _ . Clarke fills with hope. She knows that she is the only thing on Lexa’s mind. She can feel her singular focus. Clarke closes her eyes and concentrates on Lexa’s resolve. She steadies herself. She loses track of time as she stabilizes her breathing and consolidates her strength into their connection. She does this on instinct, without premeditation or forethought. But she still somehow knows what to do. Lexa  _ will _ succeed. 

“Lt. Griffin. Report to my ready room,” orders Captain Jaha over the intercom after a while.

“On my way,” answers Clarke, suddenly confident.  _ She did it _ , she smiles as she hurries to meet the Captain, certain she will find Lexa there waiting for her.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Diplomacy

Wick wipes the sweat from his forehead with the yellow sleeve of his jacket. It is only mid-morning but it’s already turning out to be a warm day. It doesn’t help that he is working at the crash site clearing, directly under the sun rather than protected by the coolness of the trees, bright light reflecting off of the metal husk of the shuttlecraft. 

“Dismantle everything you can so we can get out of here,” he orders the shuttle retrieval crew Raven assigned to him. “You all have your priority list,”

“Aye, Sir.”

He surveys the treeline, shielding his eyes with his hand. Bellamy allotted only one security officer for away teams, but Wick had read the reports about the pauna and reapers who prowled this area, and he was not confident that one pair of eyes would be enough to detect their approach. No matter their technology. Wick tries to channel his nervous energy into the mission. His motto has always been “fake it til you make it,” so he practices his swagger as he supervises his crew’s work. He feels his usual confidence slowly trickle back as he straightens his back, tilts his head, and sticks his chin out. Though not enough to completely banish his uneasiness.

The  _ Van Gogh _ is barely recognizable as the shuttle he spent weeks outfitting with his prototype deuterium-efficient warp engine. And as long as it took for him to build the engine and install it in the shuttle, it took him even longer to convince Raven that it was mission ready. He wonders how long it took for it to smash into the ground. 

_ What a waste,  _ he sighs.  _ At least she can’t blame me for the Van Gogh. I wasn’t responsible for that crash _ . He sighs again.  _ Not that one _ .

The past week felt like hell to Wick. A waking nightmare in which everyone he cares about must pay for his mistake. He knows the Captain gave the order, but he was the one who convinced the Captain. And he had been so sure. When Raven caught him the other night reviewing the models over and over again at his workstation instead of sleeping, she locked him out of the program and ordered him to remain in his quarters for the next eight hours. Nevermind that she is working at all hours herself. 

“If you chose not to use this time to sleep, it’s your business. But stay out of my way until then,” she had said to him. Wick suspects that Raven wasn’t really concerned for his health so much as she was too disgusted to look at him and wanted him out of her sight. She only gave him this assignment because there was no one else to lead the away team. In truth, he had never stopped running the models in his head. His eidetic memory working in overtime to dissect every sensor reading, every system failure, every unforeseen complication from the crash. In truth, he is also pretty disgusted with himself. 

Suddenly, Wick hears a scuffle and a thud. Then someone yells “Intruder” and Wick and the security officer both start running in the direction of the commotion. Phasers fire behind the shuttle and someone else slams against the ground. When they arrive at the scene, the two engineers are lying on the ground, flattened by heavy blows to the head and two Trigeda are swiftly running into the cover of the forest canopy. Each is carrying a bulging leather rucksack behind them on their backs.

“Fuck!” Wick exclaims, pulling out his tricorder and pointing it in the direction of the escaping thieves. “They’re stealing parts of the ship!” The security officer runs after them while Wick checks on his team. They are bruised and slightly concussed, but otherwise okay. “We need to get you two to sickbay,” he says as they begin to stir. He starts at the rustle in the bushes when the security officer returns.

“I lost them, Sir,” he says with disappointment. “They just disappeared into the trees.”

“It’s OK, Ensign. I’m just glad no one is seriously hurt,”Wick replies. “Here, help me with this. We need to get these two and whatever is left of the salvage back to the  _ Ark _ . I don’t like this. We need to report to the Captain.”

“Aye, Sir,” they answer in unison.

***

Captain Jaha and Commander Lexa regard each other from across the conference table, each holding an impassive and waiting expression. Kane inwardly smiles at this silent game of chicken. Many species find Vulcans infuriating for their unflappable and cool personalities, but he has no doubt that the Commander could give his Captain a run for his money. They had been staring at each other like this since Kane brought the Commander into Conference Room 4, now serving as the Captain’s ready room.

“Commander Lexa,” Jaha says finally, breaking the prolonged silence. “What can I do for you?” His expression has not changed, even as his lips form the words.

“Captain,” Lexa bows in acknowledgment, clearly having waited for Jaha’s invitation to speak. Kane notes the importance of formality and ritual in Trigeda culture. “I must return to my capital Polis the day after tomorrow. I would like to invite a Federation delegation to accompany me to discuss the alliance between our peoples.” Lexa stares at Jaha intently, holding herself in a dignified and stately manner. Kane can see that she has mastered herself, drawing upon her inward strength and determination. He detects no uncertainty within her. He can’t help but admire her sense of resolve and clarity of purpose, and he must shake himself free once more of her natural tele-empathic influence.

“That’s out of the question, Commander. I cannot further expose your people to our technology or interfere with your culture,” Jaha answers stubbornly, reciting the regulations rotely. 

Kane can feel a slight, very slight, rise of irritation that is swiftly suppressed from Lexa. Kane recognizes how patronizing the Prime Directive must sound to a proud people such as the Trigeda. 

“I’m afraid you won’t have a choice, Captain,” she answers plainly. “Your ship is in my clan’s territory. If you do not formally align with my people, I have no claim of protection. Looters and bandits will begin to plague your security forces and there will be limits to my ability to police it. The penitent and the sick, who have heard of the miracles your people can perform, will flock to you. They will hold fasts and vigils at your gates trying to prove their worthiness. And these are just my people. I have not even mentioned my allies and enemies, all of whom have heard tales of your power by now. Soon, your ship will be the target of raids, offers, and threats from other clan leaders if you are unaligned.”

“Enough, Commander,” scowls Jaha stoically. “I understand your point. What do you want?” Kane can guess what she will say next.

“Clarke,” she answers simply.

“I beg your pardon,” Jaha says indignantly. “We don’t trade our people for alliances, Commander,” he pronounces icily. “Intimidating tactics will not change that.” He stares at her coldly.

Lexa’s demeanor is calm, but firm when she speaks again. “You misunderstand, Captain. I simply want Lt. Griffon to be assigned to the delegation and be allowed to move freely among my people. Word of her deeds has spread to my capital and the people are eager to celebrate Wanheda’s achievement and pay their respects.” Lexa is entirely truthful in her words, but Kane knows that this is not her motivating reason. If Kane concentrates closely enough on Lexa’s flow of mental and emotional energy, he can feel Clarke’s distinct emotional presence in the room, though he knows she is physically elsewhere on the ship.  _ Their connection is getting stronger _ , he thinks. 

“Even if I were to agree to your delegation, Commander, sending Clarke to Polis would be out of the question. This Wanheda business is precisely the kind of matter I am trying to avoid. To say nothing of your...personal...relationship with my officer,” Jaha says bluntly.

Lexa clenches her jaw, but her voice is still steady and clear. “As I said, Captain. The penitent and the sick will come here, but specifically, they will come for Wanheda. To the people of Tondc, Wanheda is simply your officer, Clarke Griffin. A person from the sky, but still a person. They know her as flesh and blood. Someone who was able to be captured. A woman who, as you say, has a personal relationship with their Commander. But Tondc is a small village within my territory. Word of Clarke will spread much faster than you realize. To the rest of my people, she is now just a story, a myth, and soon she will be a legend. Her deeds will grow in the stories they tell. It is the nature of these things. She will never be just Clarke to them if you cloister her here on your ship. She will be Wanheda the Miraculous. Wanheda the Goddess from the Sky. A temple could even form around her. There would be nothing I could do to prevent it. Is this what you want?” The Commander knows that she has just cornered Captain Jaha, using his own argument against him. 

_ Check mate,  _ thinks Kane.  _ She knows just where to strike. _

“But if you allow Clarke to join the delegation and be received in Polis befitting her status,” Lexa continues, “there will be no chance for a legend to form. They will recognize her for who she is - a talented apothecary who lives and dies just as they do. They will see all of your people as such. Not a people to worship, but a people to befriend. I implore you Captain, our goals are the same. Send a delegation. Allow Clarke to participate in Trigeda society. Not to interfere with our culture, but to honor it.” When Lexa is finished, she confidently leans back into her chair and waits patiently for Jaha to respond. She knows she has won.

“She believes what she says, Sir. I detect no deception.” Kane says to the Captain. Jaha is silent for a moment. Kane can tell that he is reviewing the logic, looking for a weakness. 

“Commander, I understand that the Federation aren’t the first alien people to visit your planet,” Jaha says finally. 

Lexa nods. “That is true. The legends of the Evil Ones are told to scare young children from wandering too far into the woods in some villages,” she answers, without changing her expression. “We used to have great cities and our own wondrous machines. Our planet had an abundance of resources. But the Evil Ones left only ruin in their wake and you see us now. All of what is left of our recorded history is in Polis if this interests you.” Kane’s ears prick up.

“Hmh,” Jaha grunts. “So you see why we try to stay away from people such as yours. You understand firsthand the damage a greater technological power could do.”

“The damage is done,” she returns emphatically. “We already understand that we are not alone among worlds. That there are those who possess far greater power than we do. We will never know how far my people would have progressed by now. Without the Evil Ones, we may have been out to greet you in the stars by now ourselves. But show my people that we are not in a universe among only enemies, Captain. Show them that we have friends too, as Clarke and your people have shown in Tondc. Isn’t that what your Federation stands for?”

“There is still the matter of Clarke’s mutation,” Kane interjects, positive to where this conversation is now going. “The Doctor may have some preliminary results by now. She will want to have some input on this as well, Captain.”   
  
“I am aware, Marcus, that the Doctor will have some very strong opinions on the matter,” he answers testily. “Commander, I cede your point. It appears I will have no choice but to send a delegation back with you to Polis. But I will need the Doctor’s medical clearance before I can agree to send Lt. Griffin.”

At this, Lexa’s expression finally changes as she furrows her brow. “You keep saying that something is wrong with Clarke, but I would know if something were wrong, Captain. I know you have advanced machines that tell you these things, but I feel no weakness in her. I would never risk her life. She is safe to travel,” she says with certainty. 

“We shall see, Commander,” Kane says, curiosity spilling over.  _ This is the first time the Commander has suggested she is aware of their empathic relationship, _ Kane observes. “Doctor,” Kane calls after tapping his combadge. “Report to the Captain’s ready room.”

“Understood,” replies Abby's disembodied voice. 

“We will resolve this one way or the other, Commander,” Kane assures her, girding himself for Abby’s reaction to Lexa’s proposal. 

***

Lexa observes Jaha closely before she speaks. “Your son died bravely,” she says solemnly as they wait for the Doctor to arrive, feeling that the break in their negotiations is a proper time to pay her respects. She knows that it is still the time of grief. Sometimes she could feel the heaviness in Clarke’s silence when she was remembering her friend. 

“You were there when he died?” Jaha asks dispassionately. He tilts his head as he speaks to her and his eyes give nothing away. Lexa immediately respects his poise. There is nothing feigned about the Captain’s display of self-control.  _ He is formidable _ , she thinks.  _ A man of relentless logic.  _

“Yes,” she replies. “He showed no fear.” Lexa pays her respects to Jaha as she would to any honorable warrior’s surviving parent. “And he was not alone,” she adds. Lexa understands that Clarke still feels guilt over not being able to save her friend, and she hopes that her words afford the Captain a measure of peace. 

Responding to her gesture of goodwill, Jaha bows his head in gratitude for her remarks. Kane is silent, watching their exchange with his keen gaze.  _ That one listens almost too closely _ , she thinks, regarding Kane cooly. She must remember to ask Clarke about him later.  _ There is something about him that reminds me of Beatrice _ , she thinks, referring to the Mother Superior. Both have eyes that answer their own questions about those they encounter. 

When Abby enters the room, the three of them are waiting somberly and expressionless, as if made of wax or stone. She looks them over one by one and sighs, shoulders rising and falling with her breath. Lexa can see echoes of Clarke’s stubbornness and headstrong nature in her mother’s manner. She smiles to herself at the resemblance. 

“Ah yes, Doctor,” Kane says, shaking himself out of the effects of the ambient mood. “Do you have any new information to report?”

“Yes, Commander Kane,” she answers, looking him over curiously once more. “I can confirm that Lexa is causing the changes to Clarke. Whatever is happening, is happening to both of them. I can only surmise that the  _ charismatum _ was already present in the Commander, because we know it did not originate with Clarke. But Lexa’s current state of activity seems to be directly related to Clarke, and Clarke’s  _ charismatum _ only responds to Lexa, at least for now.”

“Doctor,” Captain Jaha asks, “is there a danger of this happening to others on the crew?” 

Abby shifts her balance and clears her throat. “Unless I am able to test more of the Trigeda, I will not know if they possess the gene that is causing this. But from the test results, I think it’s highly likely that exposure to the mutagenesis would require close, intimate contact. I will run further tests and continue to monitor the crew.”

Lexa starts to put the pieces together. “Doctor,” Lexa interrupts, “you say that I too am affected by this change you have described? I did not understand everything you said, but I believe I can offer some insight into what is happening to Clarke and I.” The officers all turn to face her at once. She pauses a moment for their full attention. “As the Commander, I am unique among the Trigeda. I am sworn to protect the secrets of the Order, but I can tell you that those that I...care for...and who care for me in return may form a powerful bond. The bond links us and we are stronger from it. Clarke and I have begun to form such a bond. Clarke is in no danger. I swear to you, Doctor. I would protect Clarke’s life like I would protect my own.” She turns from the Captain to Abby at this, looking her in the eye. 

“You say the bond has begun to form, Commander,” replies Kane. “What would happen if you and Lt. Griffon were to never see each other again from this moment forward? Would it cause harm to the two of you?”

Lexa furrows her brow for a brief moment before collecting herself once again. This is not a possibility she wants to think about. “It would be painful, but no lasting damage would be done,” she answers softly.

“And after the bond is formed? What then? What happens if you were to go separate ways?” Abby asks this question.  _ In her mind, she has already left my world and taken Clarke with her _ , thinks Lexa with consternation. 

“It would be a kind of death,” Lexa whispers. “A living death. Separation doesn’t weaken the bond, but it weakens the individuals. Only the actual death of one of us would sever it.” Lexa refuses to go down this mental trap. She must take care of today before she can take care of tomorrow. “The legends of many past Commanders contain stories of their bonds. I will give your delegation full access to my personal library if you wish to learn more.” She hopes that this will satisfy them. 

“But you barely know each other,” exclaims Abby furiously. “You can’t be serious, Commander. You can’t expect my daughter to be bound to you for the rest of her life? After just a week?” Abby walks back and forth across the room several times as she speaks, making no effort to contain her emotions or hold back her opinions. Though Lexa understands the seriousness of the situation, she can’t help but see Clarke again in her mother. And since she is still not yet used to the overwhelming happiness which is produced when she thinks of Clarke, Lexa smiles broadly and inappropriately at Abby as she paces in front of her.

“I will not allow the two of you to make such a rash decision. Not just as her mother, but as the Doctor on this ship. I mean really, Commander. Do you even know anything about her? Where was she born? What is her favorite color? What did she dream about when she was a child?” She stops. “That one I will answer, Commander,” says Abby determinedly, taking a deep breath. “When Clarke was a child, she dreamed of exploring the stars. She dreamed about visiting planets like this one. But never once, Commander, did she ever tell me about dreams about spending her life on a planet like this one. What could you possibly offer her here?” Abby’s eyes are shooting arrows at Lexa, looking to make a kill.

Lexa’s smile fades as she takes in Abby’s words. She understands now the fear and resistance that she and Clarke will face from Clarke’s people. She had only considered the Order, not the Federation as an obstacle. She realizes now that she had allowed her feelings for Clarke cloud her judgment.  _ But Clarke is here with me. She has faith in me. _ Lexa touches Clarke with her thoughts and draws strength from the certainty of Clarke’s affection. 

“You are right, Doctor,” answers Lexa with as much respect as she can muster. “You have my word that I will rush nothing. I will follow your medical guidance. Clarke has always been free to choose. But you must understand. I do not just advocate for myself but for my people. I implore you to assign Clarke to your delegation. My people will not be satisfied unless we ceremoniously present her to the citizens of Polis. Our rituals must be satisfied.” 

“Abby, the Commander is being forthcoming with us. I trust her word,” Kane says to the Doctor. “Captain, I would like to join the delegation. I could monitor Clarke’s DNA changes and research their history while I’m there to learn as much as we can.”

Lexa nods in agreement. “May I also suggest Octavia.” She smiles indulgently as she says, “Some of my people have heard about her skill as a warrior, not to mention the weapon she wears on her back. We will hold a tournament when I return, and I recommend that you allow her to enter to fight on behalf of your people. More evidence that you are not gods,” she says wryly. 

Captain Jaha sighs. “Well, it would appear that the decision has been made. Doctor, do the Commander’s conditions satisfy you?”

“Yes, Captain,” she answers, “But Marcus, I expect you to report to me daily about Clarke’s condition.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Kane replies. 

“Wick to Commander Kane.” Wick’s voice cuts their negotiations short.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Kane answers.

“I’ve just returned from the  _ Van Gogh _ , Commander,” Wick says. “We had a little company. Some thieves took off with a couple of sacks of parts. Two of my team members were injured, but they are OK. I sent them to sickbay. The thieves were Trigeda, Sir.”

“Lt. Wick, report to my ready room,” orders Jaha. 

“Aye , Sir.” 

“Commander Lexa,” Jaha says as he turns to her. “Do you know anything about this?”

“No,” she answers. “But I did warn you that looters would come. My deal with Clarke and your away team prevents any of my Generals or the villagers from looting your ship, but we have our own problems with bandits. It is very likely that they are taking your parts to the black market in Polis. I can assign some of my personal guard to assist with an investigation to recover your metals.”

“That would be much appreciated, Commander,” Kane answers, as Wick enters.

“Ah, Lieutenant, good,” says the Captain. “This is Commander Lexa of the Trigeda. She has graciously invited us to accompany her to her capital Polis. We have accepted. I am going to assign you to the delegation and put you in charge of investigating the theft and retrieving our parts. The Commander thinks they will end up there. Be ready to leave the day after tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

“Aye, Sir,” answers Wick, who then nods in acknowledgement to Lexa and promptly departs. 

“Lt. Griffin. Report to my ready room,” orders Jaha, peering over at the Doctor as he does so. 

Lexa’s eyes brighten at Clarke’s name and she unconsciously straightens her posture and bearing. Lexa had only seen her that morning, but she is still eager to see her nonetheless.  _ I won’t be satisfied until she always is by my side, _ she recognizes. She tries not to allow the obstacles in front of them smother her excitement. Lexa composes herself. Clarke’s Captain will never trust Clarke to her if he thinks Lexa has the self-control of a little girl. So, when Clarke enters the room, she merely gazes at her nonchalantly, even as her heart pounds ferociously in her ears. 

Clarke suppresses a smile when she sees Lexa, but what she is able to hide with her lips, she is unable to hide with her eyes. Clarke’s eyes are so bright, Lexa almost loses her cool. All she wants to do right now is hold Clarke’s face in her hands and lose herself in Clarke’s admiring look. But she doesn’t. She clenches her fists instead and wills her feet immobile in place.  _ Be still.  _ Clarke understands and makes no move towards her. 

“Lieutenant,” Jaha says. “You will accompany Commander Kane, Lt. Wick, and Ensign Blake to Polis in two days. You will help represent the Federation’s diplomatic mission. There will be certain conditions placed upon your conduct, however. I will let the Doctor explain them to you. And I have not forgotten your indiscretion from last night, but circumstances dictate that we must address the repercussions later.”

“Aye, Sir,” answers Clarke, obviously ready to meet any conditions her Captain imposes so that she may join Lexa in Polis. Lexa is elated, though she understands how difficult these “conditions” will be.

“Clarke,” Abby begins. “According to Lexa, you are forming a physical bond with each other. A permanent bond, Clarke. We think this is causing the mutagenesis. Since I have recently discovered that the  _ charismatum _ responds to the hormone oxytocin, I will insist that the two of you avoid all physical contact for the time being. At least until we all understand this and the implications a little better. Do you agree to these terms?”

“So, if I want to go on the delegation, I have to agree not to touch Lexa?” She turns to Lexa at this, panic and questions in her eyes.  _ Are they serious? _

Lexa nods at her, signalling her assent. She will do what she must to win Clarke. No matter what or how long it takes. She had learned how to practice patience as a child. She will help Clarke to learn it now.  _ We will endure, whatever it takes _ . She lends Clarke her perseverance. Clarke meets her with her own steadfast affection. Lexa must pull herself away. 

“Now that it has been decided, Doctor, Commander Kane, you are dismissed. Commander Lexa, I look forward to our future diplomatic relations. Commander Kane will see you out. Lt. Griffin, you may stay.”

Lexa nods silently at Clarke, lips betraying a small smile.  _ Soon _ .

Clarke nods in return, eyes still shining brightly in her direction. She still feels breathless when Clarke looks at her like that. She begins to plan her courtship as she leaves the room. When Clarke picks up on her sentiment, Lexa can hear her giggling behind her through their bond.  _ Just you wait, Clarke. I am going to show you that I can be part of your dreams too. _

  
  
  
  



	5. Struggle

“You were communicating with her just now, weren’t you? With the Commander.” Jaha looks at her steadily as he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of tea. 

Clarke turns from the doorway to face him. “Yes,” she admits. “But nothing to contradict the mission.”

“The Commander has her own agenda,” Jaha says bluntly. “I hope you understand what you are getting into, Lieutenant. The repercussions will not be minor.” 

“I know, Sir” sighs Clarke with resignation. “I am still sorting it out for myself, to be honest with you. It’s a lot to process,” she says frankly.

“Indeed,” answers Jaha. “I assume, however, that there will be no more repeat of your behavior from last night? If I send you on this mission, I need to be able to trust that you will follow orders. Can I trust you, Lt. Griffin?” Jaha peers into her, eying her sharply and without mercy.

“Yes, Sir,” she replies. “You have my word. I will submit to the Doctor's terms.” Clarke doesn’t like it, but she means every word she is saying. Besides, Abby said that these were the conditions only until they understood her connection with Lexa better. Clarke has faith that her mother will find those answers soon and that these absurd conditions will be lifted in no time. 

“Alright then,” Jaha says, putting the matter to rest. “But there is another issue I would like to discuss with you.” He sets down his mug and folds his hands in front of him. “I am going to retrieve Wells’ body tomorrow. You will accompany me and lead me to his burial ground. We will leave at 0800. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answers, noticeably taken aback.

“Very well. You are dismissed, Lieutenant. Report to sickbay.”

“Aye, Sir.” And she leaves his ready room, holding down her shaking hands only until the door closes behind her.

***

Raven steadies herself against the sickbay berth. She refuses to sit down, instead leaning her weight against the sleeping unit and using her crutch as a counterweight. She had already taken off her bulky Starfleet uniform jacket, and there are smudges of dirt and grease on her shoulders, chest, and arms. Raven is, as usual, oblivious to the mess.

“Abby,” she shouts when she sees the Doctor returning to sickbay from the  _ Ark _ . She pulls herself upright and begins to hobble towards the Doctor.

“Oh, Raven. Good. How is your leg?” Abby walks over to the medicine cabinet and fills her hypospray with a yellow fluid. “It’s time to readminister your pain medication. You were due for a new dose last night, in fact.” She approaches Raven and places the hypospray on her neck, administering the dose. Raven now associates the soft compression sound of the hypospray with the instant relief of the medicine. Her body relaxes as it takes effect. She is now wondering why it was so important for her to put this off for long. Why she feels the need to soldier on without anyone else’s help. This independent streak was the main character trait that kept Raven out of the symbiote program. She had never felt comfortable with the idea of sharing her mind with another lifeform, let alone sharing the memories and personalities of many lifetimes of deceased trill.

“Thanks, Abby,” she says, sighing. The alleviation of the pain rounds the edges of her permanent bad mood. “Have you been able to analyze the scans of my leg and spine yet?” Raven knows that part of the reason she put this off for so long is that she hasn’t been ready for the answer to this question. She doesn’t want to think about a life trapped on a technologically unreliable planet, disabled and defenseless.

Abby pauses. “Yes,” she answers. “My preliminary analysis has been confirmed, Raven. I’m sorry. If we could get you to one of the facilities on a starbase, I have no doubt that reconstructive surgery could repair the damage, but I simply don’t have the resources here, or even on the  _ Ark _ to perform such a surgery, to say nothing of the expertise.” Abby looks at her kindly and Raven can see that she is trying very hard not to give her the impression of pity. “But here,” she says, opening a drawer in her cabinet and pulling out a clunky plastic brace. “This is the latest Starfleet model. I was able to fabricate it yesterday. And here is the design. I’m pretty sure you can make improvements. It’s not a permanent fix, but wearing it will improve your posture and increase your mobility. Please take it.” She holds the brace and a datapad out to Raven. Raven is inclined to turn away from her and storm, or more like totter, out of sickbay. But the Doctor’s sincere expression gives her pause and she takes the items from her instead.

“Do you need my help putting it on?” Abby asks.

Raven’s first impulse is to reject her offer. But then she realizes that she could use the physical contact, so she sits on the berth and allows the Doctor to place the brace around her leg.  _ Clarke really picked a fucking inconvenient time to fall in love with someone else _ , she thinks to herself, with no small amount of self-pity. It’s not that she isn’t happy for her friend. But she has been so desperate for intimacy that she was even tempted to seduce Wick, who she knows has been harboring a crush on her for years. But she doesn’t want to do something like that to him, especially now that he is under her command. For her, it would simply be a necessary release, but for him it would mean more. She sent him away instead.  _ Not touching that one _ , she thinks grimly. 

_ No _ , Raven thinks to herself,  _ I’m not going to waste my time feeling sorry for myself _ . Nor is she going to use and abuse members of her team.  _ I have a ship to repair and a crew to get home, _ she thinks determinedly. 

Abby finishes strapping the brace onto her leg and clicking it into place. It  _ is _ bulky. She is pretty sure she can remake it out of lighter materials. She stretches her leg out a few times to test her flexibility.  _ Not bad, _ she thinks, _ but I can do better _ .

Raven gets up and takes a few steps back and forth in sickbay.  _ Not bad at all _ . “Thanks,” she says to Abby. She still walks with a limp, but she no longer needs the crutch.

“You will still have to report to sickbay daily for the pain medication, but this should help with some of the discomfort.”

“Alright. Thanks again.” As she leaves to return to engineering, she sees Clarke approach. Not only had Clarke not visited her bed in the past week, but she hadn’t even bothered to pay a visit to check on her as a friend. Everytime Raven saw Clarke around the Ark base, she would just pass her by with that dreamy idiotic expression on her face. Raven tries not to resent her, but the built up anger over her chronic pain and new physical limitations are compounding together with the sudden loss of her most reliable friend when she needed her most. Clarke is too preoccupied to do more than nod in acknowledgment when Raven passes. Raven swallows her frustration and puts her mind to the pressing matters ahead of her. She has the replicators in Ten Forward to get back online. 

***

Clarke is biting her lip when she enters sickbay. Before her conversation with the Captain, she had wanted to confront her mother about her interference in Clarke’s love life. But now she wishes they didn’t have this impending conflict in front of them, because Clarke would really like to have her mom to lean on right now. It had taken her almost ten minutes to calm herself down after her meeting with Jaha. She had slipped into a storage closet to take a few deep breaths before someone confronted her to ask her what was wrong. She didn’t think she could face anyone’s concern at that moment. 

Though she has regained her composure and steadied her trembling fingers, she is still grappling with the unsettling thought of confronting Wells’ corpse tomorrow. But the habits and trends of Clarke’s relationship with her mother win the day, as Abby stomps her way towards Clarke, seething herself from her daughter’s choices and completely unaware of the emotional hammer that she is recovering from. 

“Clarke! I want to talk to you,” Abby states forcefully, completely missing the haunted look in Clarke’s eyes. “Are you serious with this Lexa business?” Her mother is giving her the lecture voice she saves for when she is really disappointed. “Have you even thought this through? Do you fully understand the ramifications should you continue to pursue this bond of hers?”

Her mother’s words snap her out of her morose and anxious mood. Clarke mirrors Abby’s aggressive attitude, arming herself with her own righteous indignation.  _ I am a grown woman _ , she thinks furiously, incensed that she must have this conversation with her mother right now.

“Before you open your mouth to speak, Lt. Griffin, I would like to remind you that I outrank you, and that you can protest and fight me all you want, but you will not change my mind on this,” Abby says, staring her down for a moment, then swiftly changing her strategy. “Look, I’m working on a protein blocker to try to prevent any permanent changes to your DNA. I just need a little time. Then you can pursue your little dalliance all you want, without having to make a choice that will impact the rest of your life. Is that so unreasonable? Or have you already decided to abandon your career with Starfleet and stay on this planet forever?” Abby asks sarcastically, using her ‘mother-knows-best’ tone that has always irritated Clarke. It is irritating mostly because when she uses that tone, she is usually right. So very irritating. 

When Clarke’s temper starts to flare, she thinks about her goal - Polis with Lexa.  _ Lexa. _ Clarke softens her stance, but does not disarm. She doesn’t appreciate her mother’s characterization of her connection with Lexa. There is nothing trifling about what she is feeling right now. She cannot imagine staying behind should the  _ Ark _ leave this world, but she also can’t imagine leaving here without Lexa either. The option of launching back into space and abandoning Lexa again leaves her with a nauseating pit in her stomach. So, for the first time in her career, Clarke finds herself frantically hoping that her best friend Raven Reyes fails in her task. Fails to fix the  _ Ark _ . Fails to render the ship space-worthy. Fails to get them home. She is so ashamed of herself for what she wants that she has not been able to face Raven since the ship crashed and solved all of her problems. She was not forced to abandon Lexa. She does not want to have to choose again.

But her mother  _ is _ right about one thing. She doesn’t have to make up her mind right now. She has some time. How much will depend on Raven’s ingenuity, so Clarke doesn’t like her odds of a long reprieve. But she also hasn’t counted out the planet itself. The planet, at least, is on her side. It won’t surrender the  _ Ark  _ easily. So she clings to the desperate hope in the planet and its ability to foil even the ingenuity and brilliance of Starfleet’s best and brightest. She channels all of her anger and resentment into that hope and her desire to see Lexa again and swallows her stubbornness - hard.

“OK, Mom. You win. I’m not going to fight you.” Clarke really wants to fight her. “But you have to agree to stay out of this with Lexa and me. I will follow your medical advice, but you have to let me figure this other stuff out on my own.” She starts to regulate her breathing, a skill she has only recently acquired. 

“What is there to figure out?” Abby asks, astonished. “No, nevermind. You asked me to stay out of it.” Abby too is struggling to constrain her temper. “As long as you understand that you are not to have any physical contact with Lexa, whatsoever, I will release you to the away mission.” She looks Clarke in the eye. “None, Clarke. Just give me a few days, a week tops, to formulate the blocker. And if the transporters are online by then, I can beam it right over. I promise, I am not trying to make things difficult for you.”

“Fine,” Clarke answers, successfully keeping the hard edges out of her voice. The steady breathing has paid off, and she is finally calm.

“So, what did the Captain want with you? Is he going to write you up?” Abby asks, trying to change the subject. Neither of them wants to continue this conversation any longer. 

“He wants me to take him to get Wells and bring him back,” she answers glumly, the black hole of her mourning threatening to swallow her once again. 

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby says as she rushes over to her, finally registering her pain. When Clarke looks up at her with eyes full of grief, she wraps her arms around her daughter and hugs her tightly until the tears stop falling from her cheeks. 

***

It is the morning that Lexa and the delegation are to leave for Polis. Her guards and attendants are packing up her camp and readying the horses and carts for the journey. Instead of excitement, Lexa feels only trepidation. Lexa could clearly feel that yesterday had been an emotionally difficult day for Clarke. Lexa assumed it had something to do with her dead friend. It had been frustrating to know that Clarke was in so much pain, but not be able to comfort her. Lexa’s guards had seen Clarke leave the  _ Ark _ with her captain and a floating platform go into the forest. But because their connection is still forming, Lexa wasn’t able to provide support through the bond once she left the immediate vicinity. Lexa was cut off from Clarke for almost the entire day, and all Lexa could sense after she returned was exhaustion and sleep. She has respected Clarke’s privacy since and has been waiting for her to reach out first. 

“Heda, the preparations are ready,” Gustus says, noisily approaching her so that she is alerted to his presence. Gustus can always predict what she needs from him. They have their own kind of bond.

She nods in acknowledgment. “Thank you, Gustus. Alert Commander Kane that we are ready to depart.” 

“Yes, Heda,” he says as he departs for the  _ Ark _ camp.

Lexa paces as she waits for the Federation delegation. When they arrive, the first thing she notices is how withdrawn Clarke looks and feels. She is so close now, yet very very distant at the same time. Lexa yearns to communicate through their bond, but she knows instinctively to give Clarke the space to come to her. What could she do anyhow?  _ I cannot hold her in my arms or stroke her hair. I cannot kiss her forehead or her cheeks. I can only stand here as a witness hoping that she chooses to share her burdens with me. _ But her duty today concerns not just her love life, but the relations between the Trigeda and the Federation, so she shakes herself from her preoccupation with Clarke Griffin and approaches the small group.

“Commander Kane,” she says, bowing her head in the manner appropriate for a leader of his station. He follows her lead and bows in return.

“Lt. Griffin, Lt. Wick, En. Blake, welcome,” she says, extending her greeting to the rest of the delegation, per custom. “This way, please. I have arranged to have extra horses brought for your convenience. We will ride through the afternoon and camp overnight at one of my posts. We will arrive in Polis tomorrow evening.” She leads them to their animals. She had chosen the finest horse for Clarke, a beautiful black mare with a shimmering greyish white mane. Clarke’s mood lightens just a little when she sees her, and she looks up at Lexa for the first time that morning and rewards her with a small smile. Lexa looks at her gently and motions for Gustus to help them all onto their mounts. 

As the convoy gets underway, Gustus takes the head and leads the group through a well-worn trail into the forest. Lexa rides silently next to Clarke, who is lost in thought, though making no effort or expressing no desire to leave Lexa’s side. 

_ Hi _ , Clarke says to her finally through their bond, after almost an hour on the trail.

Lexa sighs with relief.  _ Hi _ , she replies simpy, a subtle smile cracking her stony facade. She must subdue the fluttering crescendo filling her heart with want. She focuses herself, calming her desire, so she can share her energy freely with Clarke. Her warmth is palpable through their connection.  _ Are you ready to talk? _

_ Not about yesterday. _ Though Clarke is slowly beginning to open herself up to Lexa, there is still a limit. 

_OK._ So Lexa doesn’t push.

_ But...I need a distraction. Tell me a story, Lexa. From your childhood? _

_ What would you like to know?  _ Lexa asks, charmed by her request. But she suddenly finds herself momentarily insecure that Clarke, who has traveled the galaxy on an incredible starship, will find her upbringing to be quite mundane. The feeling takes her so off guard that she forgets to shield it from Clarke.

Clarke laughs out loud and looks at Lexa, almost casting off her depression. “There is nothing about you that could ever be mundane to me, Lexa,” she says, her eyes recovering their shine.  _ I just want to know more about you. _

_ OK _ , Lexa says through their bond.  _ But we will trade story for story. Agreed? _

Clarke nods.  _ But you first. _

Lexa smiles fully this time, and spends the rest of the morning telling Clarke tales from her life as a novitiate in the Order. She tells her first about meeting her mentor Anya when she was seven years old, learning to fight with a wooden sword and staff for the first time. Anya was nineteen and resented the assignment at first. She was the best fighter of her class and was offended when the Mother Superior told her that she had to train the hotshot young novitiate in weapons. She tortured Lexa that day, running drill after drill until Lexa could no longer grip anything in her torn and bleeding hands. But Lexa never backed down. In their last sparring match, she kicked Anya mercilessly in the shins, and rammed her head into her torso, knocking her down violently. She tried to bite her when they were on the ground, but Anya had already recovered from the surprise attack and dodged her. She started laughing heartily then, and the two of them had been the best of friends since. Lexa became Anya’s Second and now Anya is Lexa’s Second. She oversees Polis while Lexa is away on her duties.

_ I look forward to meeting her,  _ Clarke says smiling.  _ But didn’t you have parents too, Lexa? _

_ The Order were my parents,  _ she answers. _ I have very few memories from before I joined.  _ Lexa hasn’t thought about this for many years.

_ But someone gave birth to you. Do you even know who your parents were?  _ Clarke’s mood has lightened and now she looks at Lexa with curiosity, the sparkle back in her eyes.

_ No. It is most likely that they both died. The Order cares for all of the children who are left behind. _

_ I’m sorry,  _ Clarke says. She starts to think about her own parents, specifically her father.

_ I never knew them, so there is nothing to be sorry for. The Order provided everything I ever needed. And they chose me to lead our people, proving that family status does not determine worthiness. But enough about that. It’s your turn. _

_ Well, most of my childhood was spent on one starship or another,  _ Clarke begins. _ Both my parents were officers. You’ve met my mom. My dad was an engineer, like Raven, though he would probably be the first to admit that Raven is smarter. He died only six months ago on another planet. The air was toxic and his suit failed.  _ She goes quiet again for a moment.  _ He used to bring me back different plant life, like leaves and flowers, from his away missions when I was a kid. One time, the biofilters failed to detect the larva living inside his sample and I woke one morning to a room filled with bright pink and yellow butterflies. Thankfully, they weren’t toxic.  _ She laughs to herself, thinking about Abby’s reaction to the whole episode. 

They talk like this for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Telling each other about their lives, filling in the blanks for each other. To the others, they ride in silence, occasionally chuckling or looking at each other. But for the two of them, not a moment of silence goes by.

***

By the end of the day, Clarke is exhausted. They had been riding for six hours with only one short stop to eat and relieve themselves and they had finally reached the Trigeda post to camp for the night. Lexa and her people are preparing the camp and Clarke is milling at the edge lost in thought. 

Clarke rubs her ass. She finds herself quietly thanking Raven for dragging her to the holodeck for the past six months to learn to play one of the oldest earth games, polo. She has already suffered through the worst of learning to ride, but today was still challenging. Thankfully, Abby is always one to think ahead and had given them all doses of anti-inflammatory drugs in anticipation of their sore posteriors. Poor Commander Kane, however, had taken the worst to the day-long ride and had to be transferred to one of the carts halfway through the journey so that he could lay down among the sleeping rolls.

Though the rigors of the day had been difficult, spending the entire day by Lexa’s side had transformed Clarke’s fragile, vulnerable state into a quiet and piercing happiness. Yesterday had forced her to confront Wells’ death, digging him out of his stony grave. Watching as Jaha grieved his decaying body. Confronting the trauma a parent feels losing their child. It made Clarke understand that her relationship with Lexa, though bringing new life to her own heart, brought the prospect of a kind of death for her friends and family on the  _ Ark _ . Everything started to really sink in for Clarke yesterday. And for the first time, Clarke started to doubt whether she was doing the right thing pursuing this bond with Lexa. 

And yet. As they rode together today, Clarke also had to confront, truly confront, the shocking depth of her feelings for Lexa. Being with Lexa feels like finding her place. Hers. There has never been such a place in the entire galaxy where Clarke felt that she belonged like she does here with Lexa. Planet after planet, and all Clarke had ever found was novelty. Intellectual curiosity. A romanticism, but one without intimacy. Her travels had become a kind of hollow collection. Pages in her notebooks filled with drawings of the beautiful and the bizarre she encountered. She thought that was enough. Now she is not so sure. Because the only world she wants to experience right now is Lexa. And today, she had the opportunity to finally start to explore it. Exploration, it seems, is possible in ways that had never occurred to her. Now that she understands this basic truth, she wonders whether the galaxy stands a chance against Lexa’s powerful draw. She feels like her eyes are open for the first time.

“Clarke!” Octavia runs over to her waving her arms, breaking Clarke’s train of thought. “I thought you’d be with Lexa in her quarters by now,” she chuckles, ribbing Clarke with her elbow.

“Haven’t you heard? Jaha and my mother banned me from having any physical contact with her. It’s complicated,” Clarke says to Octaivia’s questioning look.

Octavia makes a sympathetic face and slaps Clarke on the back. “All great leaders must learn self control,” and, seeing Lincoln, she walks away, laughing heartily as she goes.

Clarke rolls her eyes. She scans the busy camp, watching the bustle of Trigeda unloading parcels large and small from the carts and horses and carrying them into an underground structure barely visible from the surface. She reaches out for Lexa and finds her immediately in the crowd. Sensing her, Lexa turns and grins broadly. Clarke’s heart starts beating so loudly and strongly that her fatigue drains away, replaced with the exhilaration she feels every time she sees Lexa smile. The swiftness in her breath is then followed by a rising and overwhelming heat. Their eyes meet and it has become suddenly very dangerous for the two of them. Lexa is looking at her with smouldering eyes and Clarke is almost dizzy from their combined desire, transmitted through their telepathic bond. 

As Clarke feels herself losing to her desire, she feels Lexa abruptly sever their connection and start walking over to one of the wagons. When Clarke regains her sense of balance and self-control, she realizes that Lexa is now walking towards her, carrying two wooden poles. No, training staves. Clarke somehow knows exactly what they are without words from Lexa to explain it.

“Did I mention, Clarke, that when I was in my novitiate, I was sworn to celibacy until my seventeenth year, when I completed my vows and formally entered the Order?” Lexa asks when she approaches Clarke.

“No,” she answers, a little nervous to be so close.

Lexa throws a staff to Clarke, keeping herself beyond arm's reach. “I always found physical activity to be just what I needed to expel my energy without breaking my vows. Come, Clarke. Let me see how you fight.” Lexa’s words are a challenge. Daring Clarke to keep her cool and obey her captain’s orders. Clarke gets the distinct feeling that Lexa is testing both herself and Clarke with this exchange.

_ She really does like the punishment _ , thinks Clarke to herself.  _ I can help her with that once this nonsense is over and I am back in her bed where I belong _ . But Clarke has to refrain from imaging all of the ways she would like to reduce Lexa to her mercy, because Lexa is now coming at her with the staff.

Clarke, like all Starfleet officers, has been trained in basic hand to hand combat. But she knows that she is no match for Lexa. She blocks Lexa’s powerful strikes, but she is too slow to make any attacks herself. Lexa tests Clarke’s defense over and over again, driving her backwards until she can go no further. With her back against a tree, Clarke raises the staff horizontally in front of her to block Lexa’s latest blow. Lexa presses the staff into her and they are close enough now that Clarke can feel Lexa’s heavy breath on her neck. A drop of her sweat falls on Clarke’s arm. They both look to where the drop fell and then at each other, Lexa leaning into her staff towards Clarke. But not touching her. 

Clarke can’t stand it any longer. She and Lexa are staring into each other, a battle of wills. Somewhere inside of Clarke, a dam breaks.  _ Lexa _ , she whispers faintly in her mind. She wants so badly to surrender. To say what has been left unsaid. The desire between them builds and builds further.

_ Lexa, I lo- _

_ Don’t. _

Lexa’s response startles Clarke out of the dream state. As hurt and confusion begin to creep in, Lexa continues.

_If you say it, Clarke, I will want to hear it again. I will want to hear it again and again every day until the day I die._ Lexa’s green eyes spark so intensely with passion that Clarke thinks she might go blind from it. _Please Clarke,_ _don’t say it. Not until you have chosen to stay with me. To stay with me even after your people leave my planet. If you say it only to disappear again...Clarke, I -_ Clarke cannot make out the words she says next because all she can hear is the pain.

Clarke nods her head. She won’t say it. But her silence is meaningless. Every molecule in her body is singing in a single chorus. A single expression. And whether that expression is formed into words or left unspoken has no bearing on the fact that Clarke is already embodying the words forming in her mind and lips. She is utterly and completely consumed by Lexa. And Lexa knows it. Lexa feels it as surely as Clarke feels her overwhelming adoration reflected back at her in Lexa’s eyes. But Clarke won’t say it. Not yet.

They are still pressing against each other, Clarke’s back against the tree, heat emanating off of both of them. The stark and naked reality of their passion for each other evident in every breath and beat of their hearts. And just when Clarke thinks her yearning will overtake her, Lexa suddenly drops her staff.

“You win today, Clarke,” she says and she walks briskly and abruptly back towards the others setting up camp. Lexa still has a promise to keep.

Clarke watches as she walks away, her back straight and her movements controlled. She slumps against the tree, her staff dangling from her fingers.

_ I love you, Lexa, _ she thinks to herself, in the quiet, private part of her mind. 

  
  
  



	6. Waystation

Kane hears the commotion before he sees it. And as he approaches the mass of Trigeda warriors gathering in front of him, he feels it. Clarke and the Commander are sparring with staves, giving off their usual passionate intensity. Kane has to inure himself to their fervor for each other so as not to get overwhelmed by it. The warriors are buzzing and whispering, chattering among themselves, occasionally slapping each other on the back and exchanging handshakes. When he reaches the site of the struggle, he sees that Lexa has pinned Clark against a tree with her staff. He notes how closely they have both skated the line of their promise to avoid contact. 

As Lexa leans into Clarke with her weapon, Kane can tell there is more going on between them. Their silent struggle continues, and Kane realizes that the Trigeda watching have grown silent themselves, rapt in the contest before them. When Lexa drops her staff and walks away, half of the warriors cry out in triumph while the rest slump their shoulders and grumble under their breath. But the air is celebratory, even among the losers. Their moods relate to Kane a sense of joyful optimism and genuine affection towards his Lieutenant. 

Kane sees Gustus surrounded by several Trigeda, collecting small bits of metal of all shapes from them. He is laughing enthusiastically as he stores the metal pieces into a small sack and ties it around his belt. He is obviously very pleased with himself. 

“What’s going on?” asks Kane.

Gustus continues laughing and looking pleased. “Wanheda won, so I won,” he says smiling and rubbing his hands together. 

“You bet against your own Commander?” Kane asks, astonished. He is not quite sure what he thinks about this.

Gustus gives him a devilish grin. “Wanheda doesn’t just have power over death,” he says chuckling suggestively. “Heda, too, is powerless against her.”

“And that doesn’t concern you? That an outsider has such power over your Commander?” Kane is genuinely curious. Many cultures would reject such weakness. 

“Heda will not lose the next time,” he answers, suddenly serious. “I have known her since she was a child. She always comes back after she has been beaten. And she never loses twice to the same opponent,” he says confidently. He then pauses and ponders for a moment. “But if anyone could best Heda a second time, it is Lt. Griffin.” Gustus says Clarke’s name almost warmly. Not as one would say the name of an outsider, Kane notes. Then he walks away, back to his Commander, patting the full sack hanging at his side.

Kane watches him leave, and opens his senses to the other Trigeda in their party. He is curious whether others share Gustus’s sentiments about Clarke and the Commander. He is stunned by the thought he hears like an echo bouncing off each warrior, each looking to their Commander with affection, even as Lexa herself regards them with her steely self-control -

_The future is bright._

Kane looks over at his officer, still standing under the trees, recuperating from her bout. Her shoulders are still rising and falling from her physical efforts and her eyes have not left Lexa, who is among her people and supervising their work. Kane begins to feel uneasy for the first time for his lieutenant since the _Ark_ crash landed on this planet.

_Oh Clarke,_ he thinks grimly. _I hope you know what you are doing._ He sends out a silent prayer to the Four Deities that Abby finds a way to reverse these changes to Clarke before it is too late. Then he goes to join the activity, leaving Clarke to her thoughts.

***

Clarke can’t stop staring at Lexa. She knows Lexa can feel her eyes on her, and she is making a conscientious attempt to avoid Clarke’s eye contact. Clarke can feel Lexa pulling away from their telepathic connection, cutting off her mind and forbidding Clarke entry. It is an abrupt and unsettling feeling after that moment when their connection breached her defenses and their hearts were cracked open and exposed to the other. Clarke doesn’t blame her, though. Without these wretched orders hanging around their necks, she doesn’t think anything could stop her from finishing what they had started earlier. But Lexa prizes her self control and she is eager to prove to Clarke’s people that she is honorable and trustworthy. So she ran.

Clarke sighs. As tiring as the day had been - between the riding, the lusting, and the sparring - Clarke still finds herself with pent up sexual energy. And as tempting as it sounds, she certainly doesn’t think it would be a good idea to spend the next half hour thinking about sitting on Lexa’s face. She starts to think about sitting on Lexa's face anyway. _Nope. Not helpful, Griffin_ , she scolds. But it’s so tempting.

“Hey Clarke!” Wick has come out of nowhere and is now standing right in front of her, obscuring her view.

She sighs again. _I suppose it’s better this way_ , she thinks. “Hey Wick,” she says weakly, turning her head to look at him. “What’s up?”

“Just trying to stay out of their way,” he laughs nervously, pointing at the Trigeda activity and unconsciously rubbing his backside. Wick, too, has had some experience riding in the holodeck, but nothing that prepared him for the rigors of this day. Wick has a secret passion for early 19th century european literature, especially the romances. He has spent more than one weekend riding in the countryside and surveying his land for several hour stretches in the holonovel adaptation of Pride and Prejudice as the aloof Mr. Darcy. Well, he doesn’t feel like Mr. Darcy right now. Mostly because he still hasn’t gotten the girl. 

“How’s your butt?” Clarke asks laughing a little. She can’t help but run her hand over her own ass reflexively when she sees Wick’s motions. 

“I’ll manage,” he grimaces. “You? I’m sure your polo lessons helped.”

“Oh, you knew about that,” answers Clarke, weirdly nervous.

“Yeah, it’s all Raven used to talk about. I’ve heard all the play by plays,” he says, somewhat sullenly. “You two used to spend a lot of time together,” he states quietly. Accusingly.

“Yeah, well,” Clarke starts to stammer self-consciously, “we’ve all had a lot going on lately, so...”

Wicks looks at her with slight disapproval before changing the subject entirely. He resumes a more relaxed posture and stretches his arms above him. Then he stretches his legs in different poses and looks at Clarke again.

“Feel like finding somewhere more comfortable to hang out? I could really sit down on something padded right now.” He puts his palms on his lower back and leans backward.

“Yeah, let’s go check out the accommodations,” Clarke says, still recovering from their previous conversation about Raven. The guilt she had been avoiding seizes at her heart and refuses to let go. Luckily for Clarke, Wick changes the subject yet again.

“So, you’re really into Commander Lexa, aren’t you?” His wide-eyed tone makes Clarke think that this is what having a younger brother must be like. Or a puppy.

“Yeah,” she answers breathily and a little too dreamily for her own comfort. She is really going to have to learn how to control herself when the topic of Lexa comes up. But she feels so pent up, she’s not sure how to even begin. 

Wick gapes at her with envy. He has the look of a man who yearns for true love. Gingerly, he asks “So, what are you going to do when the _Ark_ …” 

“Don’t,” Clarke interrupts, suddenly recalling her last conversation with Lexa. “Just don’t ask me that question, Wick. Please.” She turns from him and stares straight ahead.

“Yeah, sure, Clarke. We can talk about something else.” 

But they walk together in silence the rest of the way.

***

Clarke and Wick approach the unloading Trigeda, who are pulling parcels off of the carts and carrying them down a hidden stairway leading to a heavy wooden door, partially ajar. Thick vines drape over the stairwell making the entrance nearly invisible from the trail. They pass underneath the umbrage, make their way down the stairs, and enter the underground structure. Clarke observes that the stairs are made of concrete, which look modernly built and well maintained. She thinks about the stark contrast between this entrance and the dilapidated ones she and Lexa fled through when they first met. Before she heads through the entrance, though, she finds her horse and stows the training staff horizontally in the saddle. She gets the feeling she will need a lot of physical activity before the week is over.

When they finally go through the threshold of the underground structure, it opens to a large room which reminds Clarke of a transit station back home. The walls are decorated with shiny white ceramic tiles that are rectangular and neatly arranged in a uniform and elegant pattern. There is a long central area that holds a large wooden table with benches along its side and a heavy chair at the head. Load-bearing concrete pillars line the room. They have been painted green and there are floral patterns at the top, the Trigeda’s version of Corinthian columns. There are several closed wooden doors along the walls, similar in nature to the front door, and towards the back Clarke can see a wide downward staircase. The area is lit by the glass oil-fueled sconces fastened to the walls in intervals. Lexa’s people had obviously spent a lot of care restoring this outpost.

Clarke must admit, she did not expect anything like this from the Trigeda. So far, the only architecture she had seen had been the ancient and ruined buildings from her first days here and the basic wooden structures of Tondc, not to mention Lexa’s lavish but basic traveling tent. But here, Clarke can finally start to imagine the civilization that existed before the invasion of their planet so many generations ago.

“Nice,” exclaims Wick when he notices the trays of meat, fresh fruit, and flatbread being placed on the central table. Kane is already loitering near the food, eying it conspicuously. Octavia is nowhere to be seen.

When Gustus sees the officers gathering together, he approaches them officiously. “I’m sure you all would like to freshen up before our meal. Let me show you to your quarters,” he says, extending his arm in the direction of the closed doors along the walls. He shows each of them a room, which is stocked with fresh linens and a filled water basin with towels. 

Clarke’s room is closest to the door, across the room from another door, which is much more ornate than theirs. Carved into that door is a crest consisting of an image of some kind of root, shaped into a spiral. Clarke recognizes the image as one of the prominent tattoos on Lexa’s back. Unlike the other plants featured on Lexa’s body art, Clarke had yet to encounter this one during her time on this planet.

She enters the room. There is a single twin bed, a proper bed with a wooden bed frame and futon-like mattress. There is also a small table with a chair, a washing area, and an armoire made of the same walnut-colored wood as the door. The same white tiles line the walls. The room is modest, but very comfortable.

On the pillow of the bed is a single red flower with funnel-shaped petals and a pattern like an explosion of yellow and white in the center. Clarke picks it up with a smile and brings it to her nose. It smells like the oils Lexa uses in her bath and she becomes immediately dizzy as she is transported back to their nights together in Tondc. She sits down on the bed, still inhaling the intoxicating fragrance of the bloom. She imagines herself reverently caressing Lexa’s body with her lips, starting with her hands and progressing all the way to her neck and lips. Before Clarke can go any further in her wanderings, however, she hears a loud clacking sound outside of her door, followed by a gathering of voices. She shakes herself out of her fantasy and hurriedly washes up before exiting the room and joining the commotion. She places the flower gently back on her pillow as she goes.

***

Lexa is concentrating all of her effort on remaining still. She is in her quarters trying to meditate, while the impulse to pace and fume threatens to overtake her. She did not anticipate that it would be this difficult. She had gone without any woman’s touch for two years, what would be so hard about refraining from Clarke’s touch for a week, she had thought to herself cavalierly. She has barely made it a day. She smiles bitterly to herself. Mother Beatrice was right again. How many times had she lectured Lexa on succumbing to the temptation of complacency in her meditative training? Lexa had mistaken her lack of desire for a mastery over it. Who was whose master today?

She saw the hungry looks Clarke has been sending her way, felt her longing. Felt her love. Lexa could not handle both of their passion all at once, so she created a barrier around her mind, as she had been taught by the Order. Her lapse in training created a lapse in her self-control. Why? Because she had gotten complacent.

She steadies her breath, scrupulously avoiding thinking about Clarke’s soft skin. Her neck. Her blue eyes - eyes that cripple her defenses with their brightness. Lexa’s measured exhale turns into a groan. An impatient, almost bitter groan. She feels helpless in too many ways right now. For if anything is clear, she is utterly at Clarke’s mercy. Lexa feels that her entire fate lies in Clarke’s hands, as though she is standing in a doorway, waiting to see what future Clarke will bring her - a future with or a future without. And when she mentally explores that potential future without, she must resist the unfeeling allure of her cocoon of ice. The one that protected her from Costia’s loss and is waiting for her should Clarke decide that their love, their bond, is not enough to satisfy her dreams. Lexa must prepare herself for such an outcome, even as she knows with complete certainty that Clarke could find happiness here with her. Clarke’s happiness would be a mission for her only subordinate to her duty as Commander. But Clarke must make her own decision. Lexa can only show her what a future together could look like.

She shakes off projections of the future and brings herself back to her meditation. She focuses on the tenets she recites from memory.

> _Like and dislike are the enemies of the mind._
> 
> _Like brings craving; dislike brings aversion._
> 
> _Craving and aversion cause one to grasp._
> 
> _With grasping, there can be no freedom._

She repeats the meditation several times, each time finding the places in her heart wildly and feverishly reaching out for Clarke, craving her. She uses the ancient doctrine to quell her savagely beating heart, using the words to regain her sense of self-control. When she hears the signal for the meal, she almost feels like herself again. Almost. She decides to maintain her mental barrier for now. She isn’t confident in her own freedom when it comes to Clarke Griffin. 

*** 

Clarke and Lexa leave their rooms at about the same time. Clarke feels suddenly awkward when she sees Lexa, looking so damn dignified and beautiful. She is anxious because Lexa is still shutting her out of her mind. She is startled by how natural sharing the telepathic bond with Lexa had become, so that now being alone with her own mind feels like some of the colors on the spectrum have been replaced with gray. Not knowing how Lexa is feeling, especially as she now looks to be trying to make a point of proving her ability for self-restraint, is driving Clarke to such a state of insecurity that Kane pauses when he passes her, giving her a fatherly look as he sits down.

“Is everything OK, Lieutenant?” 

She is more embarrassed by his question then she would like to admit. She just feels so stupid. She bared her heart to Lexa and even though Clarke has no question as to Lexa’s feelings, she is still feeling vulnerable from her incomplete confession. Clarke considers her answer to Kane. She knows that she cannot lie to him. His people do not lie, for, as a practical matter, they cannot lie to each other. Clarke realizes that this is probably why he is so easy to talk to. She never gets the sense that she has to protect him from her feelings, as he seems completely at ease with the messy complexity of others. 

She sits down next to him, and her eyes linger on Lexa as she says quietly, “She is blocking our bond. I’m not used to feeling so far away.” She says it candidly, realizing that she really does need to confide in someone.

“Would you like to learn how to do that?” he asks kindly.

“What?”

“Learn to protect your mind. There are some techniques I could teach you, if you would like. You could even learn to block out telepaths like me.” He is matter of fact and definitely not giving her an order. 

Clarke thinks about it for a minute before she answers. “Yes,” she replies.

“Very good. We can start tomorrow.” At that, he starts to fill his plate with food, seeing that the Trigeda have started helping themselves to the vittles and taking their lead.

Dinner passes without further fanfare. The Trigeda are jovial, but more constrained than usual. Lexa sits at the head of the table, and Clarke is on her right side with Kane in between them. Lexa is silent for most of the meal, listening to her warriors’ reports of the last known conditions of the road ahead. Clarke at no point takes her eyes off of her. Even as she watches, amused, as Octavia flirts with Lincoln and Kane enters into a lively conversation about gambling with Gustus, Clarke keeps Lexa always in the corner of her eye. Lexa too silently and furtively keeps her eyes on Clarke. On several occasions, the corners of their eyes meet and a shiver of desire runs down Clarke’s spine every time. It is hard for Clarke to feel rejected when Lexa looks at her the way she does.

When everyone begins to retire for the night, Clarke can’t wait to put her aching body into bed, even if the bed will be empty. But first, she administers the extra dose of the pain medication to the other officers from her medkit, as every one of them has started to walk with a bow-legged gait. Before she enters her room for the night, she turns to see Lexa still watching her. They look at each other for a moment, eyes with longing.

_Goodnight Clarke_. When Lexa loosens her barrier and reaches out for Clarke, the warmth of their passionate love for each other rushes back, dispelling her insecurity completely.

_Goodnight Lexa,_ she says tenderly, then finally turns away towards her room. She falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

***

Clarke wakes to the general clamor of activity outside her door. She glances at her watch, surprised to see that it is almost midmorning. She feels rested, her body sore but functional. Lexa had announced to the delegation at dinner that today’s journey would be much shorter and they would arrive at Polis by early afternoon. Clarke was looking forward to the coming days off the road and exploring Lexa’s home.

As the travelling party gathers, Gustus addresses the Federation officers. “We are passing the border of the Great Desert today. The Desert Clan are a wandering, lawless people. Be on alert.”

Because of the heightened security situation, Lexa rides up front with Gustus and the Federation delegation is kept in the middle of the procession for maximum protection, while a contingent of warriors guard them and the rear. Lexa is no longer blocking Clarke from her mind, but she is too focused on her task to give her any attention either. 

As they get underway, Kane turns to Clarke and resumes their conversation from the night before. “Now Clarke, I am going to enter your mind with my telepathy. I want you to concentrate, see if you can sense my intrusion, and imagine creating a barrier around your mind to stop it.” They ride together like that for about an hour, Kane lightly scouting Clarke’s thoughts while Clarke does her best to block him out. It is difficult work.

As they approach the edges of the desert, the delegation all gape at the sudden change in ecosystems. The green forest comes to an abrupt end, the treeline border just off the road to their right. Beyond lies a desolate expanse. Clarke can’t make much out in the distance as the air quality is hazy and opaque. She can see sand dunes with an odd shape jutting out of the ground here and there, but that is it.

Out of habit, Wick pulls out his tricorder and points it in the direction of the desert.

“Whoa,” he says. “The radiation here is much higher than the area by the Ark.” Wick continues to scan the area as they pass.

It is a good thing Abby had inoculated the entire crew from radiation after the crash, as soon as sickbay had stabilized all of the most injured crew members. Clarke would still report it to her in case she wants to up the dose for the delegation. 

“Wait,” Wick says quizzically. He beats the tricorder with his palm. “Something’s wrong.” He hits the tricorder again.

Clarke taps her combadge. Nothing happens. “The adjustments Raven made must not be sufficient for this level of radiation,” Clarke surmises. “We should expect that none of our technology will be reliable here.” Clarke sighs. _Just what we need._

The others are still gawking at the desert when their caravan comes to an abrupt stop. Clarke hears a shout ahead along with the wild neigh of horses. Lexa’s mind has just gone on high alert.

“Sangeda!” Clarke hears Gustus shout. Then there is chaos. Figures rush at them from the surrounding trees on their left and shoot at them with arrows above them on their right. The raiders are wearing light-colored scarves around their heads and faces and heavy linen pants and tunics. Clarke curses as her phaser fails while she tries to incapacitate one of the archers. The universal translator must be starting to fail as well because the shouting of the Trigeda turns into incomprehensible gibberish. She starts to panic.

_Clarke._ Lexa’s voice pierces the din. _Gustus is coming for you. He will lead your people away to safety._ Clarke understands her perfectly, a benefit of their bond.

And right on time, Gustus emerges from the melee ahead and gestures for them to follow. Without thinking, the team turns from the battle and follows Gustus as he fights off the attackers trying to prevent their escape. Several of the raiders are pointing at the delegation and some of them start to give chase. It is then that Clarke sees Lexa appear and confront the pursuers. She is alone against four, parrying their blows with her sword. Clarke loses sight of her as they ride over the next incline in the road. She can feel Lexa suppressing her physical pain.

At this, Clarke suddenly slows and then stops her horse. It doesn’t take long for the rest of the team to follow suit.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says. “I can’t. I won’t leave her.” She looks at Kane and her eyes tell him that an order will do him no good. “Gustus, keep them safe.” She looks Gustus in the eye as she says it to impress the meaning on him in case he cannot understand the words she is speaking.

Gustus nods at her and she rushes off, back towards the fray. Octavia gives Kane an urgent, questioning look. He nods his head and she spurs her horse forward after Clarke, pulling her bat’leth from its sheath. Then Gustus, Kane, and Wick continue forward in their flight. 

  
  



	7. Sangeda

_ Earlier _

Lexa wakes feeling much more collected than the day before. She had meditated well into the night, long after Clarke fell into her peaceful slumber. She meditated until she could feel the familiar calm, a mind without preoccupation. Only then did she sleep. She slept deeply and without turmoil. Lexa observes that her calm is not perturbed by the quiet pull of the bond. She gently reaches out to Clarke, who is still sleeping. Lexa allows her heart to warm at the mental picture of Clarke curled up and dreaming in her bed.

She indulges herself for only a moment before preparing herself for the dangerous day ahead. The Sangeda have been more active along the trail to Polis, their heightened activity coinciding with the spreading tales of Wanheda and the  _ Ark _ ’s crash. 

_ It’s starting already.  _ She suspected that the raid on the shuttlecraft was just the beginning of a problem she and the Federation will have to deal with together.

She will need her full attention today. She does not regret her decision to sacrifice sleep for peace of mind. She knows that the Federation officers can defend themselves, she had seen it many times, but they are under her protection and she will not put them in such a position.  _ I will keep Clarke and her people safe. _ She swears a silent oath to her predecessors before leaving her room.

The journey to the desert’s edge is dangerously quiet. Lexa concentrates entirely on the familiar terrain around her. She knows every tree and stone, every animal den, every point of ambush. Lexa takes simple comfort in Clarke’s presence, no matter that they are not directly communicating. Just Clarke’s presence in her mind is enough for Lexa to draw strength from their bond.

An hour into their travels, something in the corner of her eye catches Lexa. They are approaching the border, and Lexa knows immediately that something is not right. 

“Sangeda!” Gustus yells. As expected, the Sangeda are making their move. 

Archers appear in the trees at their flank while warriors descend on them from above. Lexa takes a quick measure of the situation. She can feel the creeping panic emanating from Clarke, and she orders Gustus to the Federation’s aid immediately.

“Protect the delegation,” she commands. “Lead them directly to Polis. And if you run into the patrol, have them escort you.”

Gustus nods and immediately rears his horse to the Federation delegation behind them. Lexa sees two of her warriors go down from arrows, while Indra directs her warriors to fire their blowguns and darts at the Sangeda raiders firing at them from the trees. Lincoln is among the warriors defending them as they try to stop the arrows raining down on them.

Lexa can see Gustus leading Clarke and the others just ahead, but they are being swarmed by Sangeda who are surrounding them with their clubs and spears. Lexa spurs her horse forward. The sight of enemies attacking Clarke fills her with a calm fury. As she rushes into the fray, she directs her wrath at the two raiders carrying spears, as they are the ones blocking Gustus’s path. She parts their weapons with her sword, bringing her horse directly in front of them. Gustus uses the opening to lead the delegation away. Lexa looks on with satisfaction from the corner of her eye as she faces the odds against her. 

She parries their blows expertly, even as she is outnumbered. But the raiders are wily. Working together, they put Lexa on the defense with their attacks while one uses a lasso to pull her off of her horse. Lexa rolls into the fall and quickly frees herself from the rope. But she has lost her height advantage. And then she is struck in the ribs with a spear, and her training completely takes over. Suppressing all pain from the attention of her mind, Lexa grips her sword, stabilizes her stance, and faces off against her enemies. 

***

Clarke squeezes the horse with her calves, urging her forward.  _ Faster. _ She pulls the training staff from it’s buckle in the saddle and grips it near the end. It’s heavier than a polo mallet, and it doesn’t have the same flexible give, but it will do. It only takes only a minute for Clarke to return to the clash with the Sangeda raiders.

Something has overtaken her. The closer she gets to Lexa, the sharper her focus, the deeper her rage. When Lexa and her attackers come into view, Clarke urges the horse forward into a gallop, tightens her grip on the staff and raises it high, leaning over and rotating her shoulder back to avoid accidently hitting her own horse. In a powerful sweeping motion, Clarke aims for the backs of the raiders’s knees. She almost loses the grip on her staff with the force of her blow, but she manages to catch two of them off guard, their legs buckling as they tumble to the ground. Lexa uses the opening to devastating effect. 

Clarke rears the horse around, frustrated by the hearty species’s lack of agility, intending to make another pass at Lexa’s diminished attackers. As she rotates around with the horse, she catches sight of the archer in the tree just ahead, aiming her arrow directly at Lexa, who is finishing off the rest of her assailants. Operating on instinct alone, Clarke spurs the horse forward towards Lexa. She shields Lexa, arriving just as the arrow flies, and takes it herself in the upper thigh, in line with Lexa's throat. She almost passes out from the shock of seeing the arrow sticking out of her leg. The pain takes only a moment longer to register.

Then she feels Lexa. She can hear her calling her name, willing her to resist the panic welling in her throat. Clarke’s mind comes back into focus and she immediately scans the treeline for more archers. All she can see, however, is Indra and Octavia finishing off the archers, who had somehow been knocked to the ground. Clarke and Lexa look at each other, each having taken stock of the quieting battlefield, breath heaving and blood pumping with adrenaline. Clarke has already forgotten about the arrow in her thigh. They both, each in her own way, fight to retain their focus on the surrounding battle, which is quickly wrapping up. But the combined force of their imposed separation and the excitement of combat merge, causing a brief lapse in their guard. And when Clarke realizes the consequences in this lapse in attention and judgment, she knows that Lexa will not forgive herself for it for a very long time. 

***

The sounds of the fighting get louder and louder as Octavia follows Clarke back to the fray. Whispering a short prayer to Kahless* as she spurs her horse into the battle, Octavia positions her bat’leth for slicing the throats of her unfortunate foes. She can feel her blood start to pump more loudly in her ears. 

When she finally catches up to Clarke, she sees her take down two of the raiders surrounding Lexa with her staff. Behind Clarke, on her left, Octavia sees the archers hiding in the trees and shooting their deadly arrows at the Trigeda below. Already, there are at least four grounded warriors, possibly dead, from Lexa’s group. Seeing that Clarke has things under control, Octavia rushes past her to aid Indra’s group, who are being pinned by the archers. Indra, who is still mounted, has taken a position behind a tree, covered in part from the archers. Three of her warriors, including Lincoln, are defending her from the raiders who ambushed from the other side of the trail, while she steadily loads, aims, and shoots her blow gun at each archer in turn. The blow gun, which is longer than Octavia’s  _ bat’leth _ , pokes out behind the tree as Indra fires it at her mark. The poison takes effect almost immediately, as the targeted archer slumps over mere seconds after receiving the dart. One falls to the ground, while another hangs limply in the tree. There are only three archers left when Octavia urges her horse forward still.

She heads straight for Indra’s band, who are surrounded by at least six raiders on foot. They are bearing clubs and spears with carved stone tips. Octavia grips her weapon and eagerly anticipates the splash of blood that will cover her face when she slices through the Sangeda warriors. A moment later, when her bloodlust has been partially satisfied by the gristly wounding of two of the attackers and she is covered in the blood of her enemies, Octavia rears her horse to a stop and leaps off the saddle so that she may look her foes in the eye when she destroys them. The next few minutes are a blur of whirling slashes and gushing blood. The raiders have managed to take down two of Indra’s warriors and Lincoln, who is the last one remaining, is desperately fending off blows from Indra as she finishes off the deadly archers. Octavia has now dispatched four of their attackers, and when the remaining two realize that they are now outnumbered, they throw grappling hooks at the trees in front of them and swing themselves out of the reach of Octavia’s bat’leth. They are not out of range of Indra’s blow gun, however, so their escape lasts only minutes.

Octavia pulls out her  _ d’k tahg _ from its sheath on her leg. She sinks the blade of the Klingon warrior’s knife into a downed archer as he begins to wake from the sedative poison. The field of battle becomes quiet for a moment, and Octavia sees Indra dismount and check on the fallen among her people. 

But in the space of one breath, just as her shoulders start to relax, Octavia hears the crash of the glass bottles that have been thrown towards their party. A milky yellow powder bursts forth from each projectile, clouding the air with a stinging, chalky haze. Octavia watches as Lexa and her warriors slump to the ground. The last thing she sees before unconsciousness takes its hold is a group of Sangeda emerging from the shadows and throwing a net around Clarke as they take control of her horse’s reins.

***

When Clarke comes to, she is strapped and bound on some kind of sled being pulled quickly and quietly across the sand. The wind swirls around her and she can feel the dust crusting at the corners of her eyes. She raises her head to notice that the sled is being pulled by two large monstrous birds, each running swiftly on two legs. Similar in shape to earth ostriches, but much larger, the deformed and mutated creatures make no sound as the sled glides along the desert. There are two others on the sled with her, one piloting the sled, the other looking behind their trail. Clarke does not get a good look at the man holding watch beside her, but once he realizes that she is awake, he holds a small vial under her nose. 

“Hush now,” he says gently as Clarke loses consciousness again, with no clue as to how far they have traveled from Lexa’s forest.

The next time Clarke wakes up, she is lying on a cot in a dark, shaded tent. She is disoriented at first, expecting to be in her quarters on the  _ Ark _ . As her senses sharpen to the world around her, she starts to move her body. A sudden and painful ache shoots down her thigh and, like a flash, she remembers the raid, the bomb, and her brief awakening on the sled. She looks down at her leg, but the arrow is no longer there. Her pants have been cut away on the side of her wound, and bandages cover the injury. Taking stock of the room, the first thing she notices is that she is alone. The furnishings are simple, simpler even than Tondc. On a table nearby is an opaque glass pitcher filled with water with a glass, along with her medkit and tricorder. Her weapons are nowhere to be seen.

She sits up and quickly grabs the medkit, pulls out the hypospray, and loads a painkiller. Abby had packed plenty for their journey. Feeling the medication enter her bloodstream, Clarke feels almost immediate relief. She examines the bandaging. It looks clean and competently done, so she decides not to disturb them. But she knows whoever patched her up would have had to cut the arrow out of her leg. She will worry about healing the wound later.

She ponders her situation for a moment. She focuses on Lexa, experimenting with the bond, reaching out with her mind. She is there, but she is very faint. Clarke cannot make out her emotions or thoughts, only her presence. That in itself is enough to calm her breathing and hold back the fear.  _ This is just another first contact, _ she says to herself.  _ It’s not like I haven’t been captured before on this planet. _

“Good, you’re awake,” says a very large man as he enters the room. Bright light streams into the tent when he pulls back the flap, temporarily blinding her. 

Clarke reflexively sits up taller, swinging her legs to the side of the bed. The throbbing pain in her leg has turned into a dull ache. She is pretty sure she could walk on it if she needed to. But not run. 

“Please, do not be afraid. You are an honored guest here, Wanheda,” at this he bows. Not like Lexa bows, with her head, but a half bow, bending at the waist so that for a brief moment, he leaves himself fully exposed to Clarke. “I am Andre. Some call me Andre the Wise. But that is neither here nor there,” he laughs. He laughs from his belly, heartily and full of warmth. The creases along his laugh lines are deep. But so are the lines that would form a scowl. 

Clarke takes the measure of the man before her. He is perhaps in his forties, stout, with a very large frame and copper skin, redder where the sun beats the heaviest on his shoulders and nose. He is wearing a gauzy scarf like a turban around his head, his face uncovered, and light linen pants, with a sleeveless thick linen vest. He has a full, trimmed beard and piercing dark brown eyes. He is athletic but looks like a man who once carried considerably more weight on his frame. Clarke senses that he still sees himself as that much rounder man.

“Where am I? Are you the one in charge here?” She succeeds in keeping the edge out of her voice, but barely. The translator in her combadge seems to be working at the moment, and she doesn’t want to waste any time gleaning as much information she can before it flickers out again.

“Ah, right to the point!” He laughs again. “There is no Commander among the Sangeda,” he answers, “ no Councils, no Order, no one to tell you what to do,” he says with pride, puffing out his chest just a little. “It’s true that sometimes people come to me to settle their petty squabbles and blood feuds. Sometimes it ends in peace, sometimes they murder each other in front of me. What do I care what they do with their free will? As for where you are,” he continues, “you are here with me, among my caravan camp wandering the Desert. That is the only Here that matters.”

“Why have you brought me here?” she asks, expertly fighting the urge to use cruder, more accusatory language. 

“Wanheda, we need your help. I humbly ask that you save our children,” Andre replies, bowing once more.

Not for the first time today, Clarke is struck speechless. 

***

Lexa opens her eyes with a start.  _ Clarke? _ She feels so far away.  _ Oh no. _

Lexa frantically gets to her feet, taking a moment to balance herself against the lingering dizziness of the knockout gas. She scans the bodies strewn along the forest floor, some starting to stir, some lying motionless. She sees Octavia getting to her feet, but no sign of Clarke. Lexa takes a moment to calm herself as her panic slowly turns into a cold fury. She feels the echoes of a hatred she felt once before, when someone else was taken from her.

_ No _ , she thinks, clenching her jaw.  _ Not again. _

She assembles her warriors, taking stock of the deaths and injuries among her people. In the end, only four of them, including Octavia, are strong enough to follow Lexa into the Great Desert. A place of shifting sands that made it normally impossible to track Sangeda bandits. But this time, they have made a fatal mistake. 

Because even though her signal is faint, Lexa can still feel Clarke through their bond. A bond that has only gotten stronger as the days have gone by. Lexa knows how to find Clarke. Even in the treacherous waste of the Sangeda. 

_ I’m coming Clarke, _ Lexa thinks, the fury continuing to build. Their horses make their way slowly across the sand, not bred to excel in such an environment. Lexa is unconcerned by their pace. She feels Clarke’s heart beating strongly. She will use the time she has to devise the ways she will punish those who would try to kidnap her beloved. Her thoughts are grim and bloody as the wind whips the sand around her.

***

Andre leads Clarke through the makeshift camp. The tents are arranged in no apparent order or reason. On the outer edge of the camp is a much larger tent, or more like a pavilion, a shelter with no walls, but rather curtains that are currently drawn back so that the patients inside are exposed to the elements. It is then that Clarke realizes that the merciless wind is quiet here, and when she looks around she sees that the camp is at the base of a towering cliff shielding them from the sandy gusts.

There are six children in total lying in the cots underneath the Sangeda’s medical pavilion. They are feverish, gaunt and Clarke can tell without her tricorder that they are severely dehydrated.

“They can keep nothing down, Wanheda,” a woman tending to the children says. 

Clarke pulls out her tricorder and scans the children. “It’s a severe case of gastroenteritis,” she says. The stomach flu, caused by a bacterial infection. It is such a simple thing to treat, yet without her help these children are in danger of dying of dehydration. She doubts that these people have an endless supply of water to provide the children. Clarke pulls out her medkit and takes stock. She can treat only two of the children, and she doesn’t have the materials she would need to manufacture more doses. 

“Can you help them, Wanheda?” Andre asks. He lowers his head at this request. The Sangeda woman tending to the children also lowers her head.

Clarke sighs. She opened a Pandora’s box when she cured the reapers, she cannot undo it now. “I can,” she answers, “but you need to let me return to my people. I can help two, but only two. That is all the medicine I carry with me. But if you return me to my people, I give you my word that I will return to you with more medicine to treat the rest.” Clarke looks Andre in the eye. “I will treat the two who are the most ill now, and show you how to administer the medicine,” she continues. “Then you will return me to my people,” she finishes. She loads the first dose into the hypospray. It suddenly occurs to her that her equipment has continued to operate here at the Sangeda camp, underneath the cliffside. She switches her tricorder to detect radiation and confirms her suspicions. The radiation is lower here. She wonders if that is how this place was chosen. In any case, it will make everything much easier.

Andre regards her for several minutes as she fidgets with her machines. “I agree,” he finally says. “But you will cure the strongest first, Wanheda, not the weakest. In the Desert, only the strong can hope to survive. Then you will return with the rest, and the weak will have proven themselves or died in their efforts.”

Andre’s words fill Clarke with a sense of weariness and horror. But she will abide by their cultural norms. It is not for her to judge the values of other species as a Starfleet officer. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting as a human being, as a sentient mind with a conscience. “As you wish,” she replies. She administers the doses, which eradicate the infections immediately. When she sees that their bodies will retain it, she gives them the purified water in her medkit. They hold it down. The Sangeda watch on with reverence and awe. 

As she and Andre begin to iron out the details of their arrangement, Clarke can suddenly feel Lexa. She is close. Clarke’s heart starts to beat faster.

“What is it?” Andre asks, as Clarke has grown quiet mid sentence. 

“She’s almost here,” Clarke answers, her eyes beaming.

***

Lexa arrives like a storm, a fierce, violent storm that menaces those caught in its wrath. The Sangeda far outnumber Lexa and her small party, but they cower before her nonetheless. They had only ever heard stories of the Commander and her ruthlessness as an enemy. The very air around her crackles with static electricity. The hairs on Clarke’s skin stand up with the charge generating from Lexa’s focused rage. 

“So the rumors are true,” Andre says with awe, looking at Lexa, then Clarke, and back again. “You are her bondmate.” His eyes go wide with disbelief. He recovers himself in just enough time to understand the danger he is in if Clarke does not intervene. 

Clarke, grasping the situation perfectly, approaches Lexa who is being followed by Octavia, Indra, and two other warriors from their party. They are all covered in the dust of the desert, eyes cold and appraising. 

_ Lexa, stop.  _ Clarke links their minds, shuddering at the image of death that she finds.  _ Lexa, I am safe. Please. Stop. _

Lexa stops her grim march. Clarke steps forward to meet her and Andre follows close behind.

“You came,” she says, looking at Lexa appreciatively, though she hadn’t needed rescue after all. 

“Are you unharmed?” 

Clarke is certain that only she can detect the worry in her voice.

“I’m OK. They needed my help.” Clarke sends a rush of images to Lexa of the sick children and the Sangeda treatment of her. She can feel Lexa’s fury slowly ebb. But Clarke senses that she will not let it go entirely. Lexa feels a personal affront.

Lexa then looks over to Andre, and a glint of recognition passes across her eyes. “Brother Andre,” she says dryly. “Is that you after all these years?” She doesn’t try to hide the disgust from her face.

“Heda,” he bows. “It’s been a long time.”

“You know each other?” Clarke asks with surprise.

“Yes,” she answers. “Brother Andre was once a member of the Order. But they banished him long ago. He was never interested in following our customs or laws,” she spits.

Andre laughs once more from his belly, as if he has never heard anything funnier in his life. His eyes glimmer with good humor.

“You are correct, Heda. That life never suited me. But come,” he says, gesturing Lexa and her companions to enter the camp. “We have much to discuss.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kahless is the historical figure who united the Klingon people and was the first Klingon Emperor. He established the Klingon warrior ethos which prizes honor in battle.


	8. Polis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the extra long delay in my update. Please enjoy this extra long chapter, with a bonus at the end as compensation.

“Attacks against the Sky People must end immediately!” Lexa growls, pounding her fist on the rickety table. Though the murder has left her eyes, she still must contain the cold and relentless fury left in aftermath of Clarke’s kidnapping. She has plenty of rage left to fuel her glare. 

Clarke, Lexa, and Andre are sitting together at a small round table made from scrap wood under the shade of a Sangeda pavilion . Clarke suspects that a table like this would probably not survive a cold night if the caravan were out of firewood. She briefly wonders how many like tables have met such a fate, before she returns her attention to the argument before her.

“Commander, respectfully,” Andre returns, with impertinence rather than respect, his temper also starting to rise. “You know that there is no one among the Sangeda who can compel such a thing. We are not the Order,” he says snidely. “We are a free people!” He raises his gaunt chin in pride and defiance meeting Lexa’s ferocious glare with a challenge of his own.

“I know what they call you during your raids,” Lexa huffs. “ _ General _ Andre. Do not pretend otherwise. We both know you command the Sand Raiders. And, I warn you, never dishonor the Order in my presence again.” Lexa levels a gaze of pure antipathy towards Andre. Clarke can feel the part of her wrestling with her hatred, holding herself back from the violence she wants to commit against him.

“How dare you debase me with authority,” he scowls. “If warriors follow me, it is because they chose it. I do not command their obedience, nor their fealty,” he says stubbornly. “And the Order is not what you think it is, Commander. I would tell you what I know but you would never believe me. But no matter. You know that there is no one on this earth who can compel the Sangeda.” He fixes his gaze forward and sets his jaw.

“Do not bore me with your philosophy of convenience,  _ General _ . You are demanding to sit at the table in talks with the Sky People, yet you cannot even promise to end hostilities against them? What exactly do you have to trade, Andre? Or do you expect to simply take, as usual, without thought of giving anything in return?” It is obvious to Clarke that Lexa takes a personal offense at the Sangeda way of life.

“You understand nothing!” Andre shouts. “The Trigeda have no right to keep Wanheda and the Sky People for themselves.”

“Look,” Clarke interjects. She’s had enough of their bickering. “Andre, Lexa is right. My people will not agree to negotiate with you if you do not have the authority to speak on behalf of all the Sangeda. You must decide on a consensus among yourselves. The Federation has no interest in treaties with warlords. He will also insist on a Sangeda commitment to peaceful coexistence.” When Andre starts to open his mouth to speak, she gestures for him to wait. He obeys. “But,” she says, “if you can agree in good faith that you personally will lead no raids against my people, I give you my word that I will return with more medicine for your children. And I will speak to my Captain about providing more medical supplies to the Sangeda,” she adds. “But I cannot guarantee what he will decide, only that I will make your case faithfully.” She looks Andre in the eye, signaling that she has offered him a take or leave it proposal. 

“Hmh. Well, Wanheda, it seems I cannot refuse. You have my word that there will be no raids under my command against your people. And we will meet where we discussed earlier in 24 hours with the medicine.”

“Agreed,” says Clarke. “And now, Brother Andre. I would like to leave your desert, so that I can sleep in a real bed tonight.” At this she reflexively turns to Lexa and immediately turns red. Lexa seems taken aback by Clarke’s look, temporarily immobilized.

Andre laughs loudly and hits Clarke affectionately on the back as if they have been friends for many years. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you can’t wait to get into bed,” he winks. “We have a deal, Wanheda.” At this, he stands up and starts walking towards a group of Sangeda that have been watching the small group in their talks, laughing loudly and good-naturedly the entire way. 

Clarke and Lexa are now alone together for the first time in what feels like weeks, though it has been only days since Clarke’s visit to Lexa’s tent outside the Ark camp. They sit together for several minutes basking in each other’s presence. Clarke wants so badly to wrap her arms around her, to kiss her cheek. Lexa is finally starting to relax, but Clarke can tell that she is still punishing herself for letting her get taken. 

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers. She tugs gently at Lexa’s sleeve, careful to avoid her skin, even though she doesn’t think her mother’s plan is working. It has been days since they have touched and she only feels closer to Lexa. But a promise is a promise. “I’m safe. It wasn’t your fault.”

_ Come _ , Lexa says telepathically.  _ We still have a long journey before we are home. _

_ Home _ . The word lingers in Clarke’s mind for several minutes. Her thoughts flash to every place she has ever lived, looking for a physical location to put the word ‘home.’ And she realizes that home has never meant someplace physical to Clarke. It has always been people she has called home. Her people. The Ark. Her family. 

They leave the empty pavilion to return to their friends, Clarke deep in her thoughts, while Lexa struggles with her ghosts. The Sangeda return Clarke’s mare and the rest of her belongings, and Andre instructs them in the most direct route back to Polis. “Follow the sun, my friends. You will be there before night falls. I will see you soon Wanheda,” he winks genially. He is clearly still laughing to himself at his earlier joke, all anger forgotten.

So without delay, the small party leaves the Sangeda encampment for Polis, Clarke taking comfort in Lexa’s homelike presence, Lexa swearing oaths that she will never let anyone take Clarke from her ever again.

And, deep within their bodies, in their blood, the  _ charismatum _ protein continues to genetically mutate cell after cell, stamping their bond into their DNA. As Clarke and Lexa ride together side by side in weighty silence and devoted companionship, they can both feel it. Neither of them is afraid. 

***

The journey the rest of the way to Polis is long, but uneventful. Clarke already reported the events of the morning to Kane through her combadge once they left the Sangeda camp, while they were still under the protection of the cliffside. Kane and Wick had already arrived in Polis safely, and Kane agreed to work on manufacturing more antibiotics for the Sangeda using Clarke’s previous research.

Once they enter the open, windswept desert, Federation technology once again goes on the fritz. Lexa had given her a light scarf to wrap around her head to guard against the elements and Clarke is grateful for the protection. She makes note of the ruins dotting the landscape, jutting out like misshapen phantoms behind the hazy atmosphere, shadows of the distant past. Clarke tries to imagine the culture that had been prematurely interrupted by the last alien species to visit the planet. 

Though they are still able to communicate through the bond, Clarke and Lexa’s conversation during their trek through the sand is not one of words. As the connection between them grows stronger, so does their desire - their need - to express that connection. Her need becomes so strong that Clarke thinks she might suffocate from it. The oppressive sun and relentless wind only intensify her feeling of suffocation. 

When they finally leave the desert, the forest acts like a cooling balm. The harsh radioactive gales are now a tranquil breeze wafting through rustling leaves. The shaded trail comforts their eyes, strained from the bright sun and sandy gusts.

“We will be there within the hour,” declares Lexa, as she spurs the party onward. The trail has begun to incline, leading them up into a tiered cliffside that had been partially hidden by the dense forest. Up the path they wind, weaving through the tangled switchbacks of the worn mountain path. Clarke hears the river before she sees it, meandering through the craggy terrain on the other side of the plateau.

The farther they go, the steeper and whiter the terrain, until the horses are climbing up chalky marble steps that have been evenly carved into the cliffside. As they gain the vantage over the landscape below, Clarke is struck by the scene coming into view. The forest splays out in vibrant green before her, while above, the city of Polis rises from a marble plateau in jagged relief. The white marble construction blends with the stone of the cliffside, and from her perspective from far below the city looks like a single mass, as if one building is built on top of another, the fortification interrupted only by the spattering of small windows distributed throughout. The cliff rises in a series of tiered plateaus, each one crammed with a towering collection of stone and mortar, a massive marble citadel looming beyond, above it all. Clarke is speechless. The place is beautiful. 

They continue to wind their way upwards, and almost without warning, they come around a bend only to run suddenly into the city’s gate. Now Clarke notices the parapet surrounding the outer and inner city. When the guards see Lexa, they send a rider quickly ahead to announce their arrival. The warriors raise their weapons in salute as Lexa and Clarke approach with the rest of their party. They greet her as “Wanheda” as she passes.

Then the packed dirt trail becomes a leveled and stepped cobblestone road as they enter Polis, continuing its path upwards into the city. The streets are narrow, so they must ride in single file as they pass the stone and mortar houses, Lexa leading. The city is clean and the air is fresh. She looks up to see an aqueduct running alongside the city walls, coming from the river. They must have some kind of sewage system and running water. 

Moss and ivy grow along many of the brilliantly white multi-storied buildings, and some are decorated with hanging plants and small terrace gardens filled with a variety of red, pink, and yellow flowers and green and purple succulents. Clarke greedily memorizes and categorizes each new species of plant she sees, reflexively checking for her sketchbook in her pack.

Though she keeps her gaze forward and face expressionless, Lexa revels in Clarke’s awe and delight through their bond, allowing herself to indulge in a few moments of hope for her future. After such a long and emotionally fraught day, Clarke’s happiness acts like a drug, fogging up her critical mind and lifting her spirits. Lexa allows herself to momentarily forget the difficulty the days ahead will bring, choosing instead to enjoy Clarke’s first moments in her beloved city.

After a while, the road terminates into an open plaza, which is located in front of a grand stone columned edifice that looks like it is built into the cliff itself. Next to it, sits a towering stone citadel, perhaps seven or eight stories high. The tower is connected to a balustrade surrounding this inner sanctum. 

“Welcome to the Lyceum, Clarke,” states Lexa with a wide grin, their journey finally over. “The Order will be expecting to formally greet you tomorrow. For now, you should rest. You and your delegation will lodge with me in my Citadel. I will escort you. Your Commander Kane should be waiting for you there.”

Lexa leads Clarke and Octavia into the stone Citadel, and Clarke is immediately reminded of the medieval holodeck programs she used to like when she was a kid. She thinks about the holostory she and Wells used to play when they were kids called The Knights of Camelot, where they played the famous Arthurian knights, Wells as Galahad and Clarke as Percival. 

“Bellamy would get a kick out of this,” Octavia pants as they climb up the seven floors to their lodgings. “He always said you preferred to live in a tower,” she cracks. The staircase spirals around the Citadel, and at each floor, Lexa explains what is behind each door they pass - Lexa’s throne room, the War Council, the bureaucracy, the baths. When they get to the seventh floor, they exit the staircase and enter the Citadel’s penultimate floor. The floor is divided into four rooms. 

“You will find the rest of your people in these quarters,” Lexa points. Then she shows Octavia and Clarke their rooms. “I will instruct my servants to bring you something to eat. You are honored guests here, please do not hesitate to ask for anything you require.” Lexa waits a moment. 

Sensing her intrusion on their moment, Octavia goodnaturedly waves the two of them a good night, leaving them alone in the hallway outside of Clarke’s quarters.

“I should report to Kane,” Clarke says, suddenly shy and self conscious. She is leaning against the doorframe of her room.

“Yes, I should check in with my people too. Anya will be expecting me. But my room is right upstairs if you need me.” Lexa is standing three feet from Clarke but she still feels like she is too close. “The next few days will be very busy for all of us,” she adds. Becoming self conscious, she looks over at the three closed doors around her, thinking about their potentially prying inhabitants. 

_ Clarke, _ she continues telepathically. She’s also feeling strangely awkward, which is only enhanced by her excitement and longing. Clarke is here. In her home. She wants to show her everything. And the stakes are high for them both. But first - 

_ Will you come to me tonight?  _ She suddenly feels short of breath. Once again, the only thing she can see is Clarke. The only thing she feels is her affection for Clarke. 

_ But Lexa, we can’t,  _ Clarke answers weakly, shocked that Lexa would suggest such a thing after their promises to her Captain. She, too, is excited. Weak. She doesn’t think she can say no again if Lexa asks her one more time, though, orders or no orders. Promises or no promises. The past two days had felt like months. She is exhausted, exhilarated. 

_ No,  _ Lexa clarifies.  _ Not like that.  _ Lexa has just enough self control left. She knows the temptations pulling at Clarke because they are pulling at her too. _ I meant through the bond. Will you come to me tonight? _

Clarke’s breath intensifies. _ Yes.  _

They don’t need to touch to be close. The possibilities suddenly open up to Clarke. 

Lexa lingers for a moment longer, taking a last look for the night. She wants the image to bring back with her while she carries out her remaining duties tonight. Something to hold on to until they meet again. 

“Goodnight, Clarke,” Lexa says softly. Then she gathers her strength and turns away, returning towards the staircase leading to her room upstairs at the top of the Citadel.

Clarke wistfully hangs onto the door frame as she watches her go. When she’s gone, she enters her room and looks around. There is a double bed in the center of the room with a heavy wooden bedframe and a thick feather mattress. The soft sheets are woven in intricate purple and red floral patterns. A sturdy desk and chair sit in the corner next to a wardrobe filled with various items of clothing. The room is filled with fresh flowers, giving the room a slightly sweet smell.

She takes a moment to clean up before she calls Kane on her combadge. He is across the hall from her, so she joins him along with the rest of the away team so she can debrief them and they can strategize their next moves. Servants arrive with dinner soon after.

“Commander, we have to help them. They are just children.” Clarke has finished detailing her time with the Sangeda.

“And what of this Brother Andre? Do you trust him?” Kane asks. Clarke can tell that he is open to her recommendation, but he is analyzing the situation carefully.

“Yes? No? Both?” Clarke is trying to find the words to describe the garrulous, volatile leader-who-is-not-a-leader of the Sangeda. “He obviously cared enough about the sick children to pull off that raid, even though he says he follows that survival of the fittest nonsense. As if caring for the sick doesn’t make the whole society stronger,” Clarke scoffs. 

“Careful, Lieutenant,” Kane instructs. “Our mission is not to judge other species.”

“I know, Sir,” answers Clarke glumly, though she happens to agree with Lexa on this one. She bristles at the brutal, individualistic society of the Sangeda. It has always been in her nature to make herself of some use to the greater whole. Her work in Starfleet cataloguing the many species of plant life in the universe adds to the whole of Federation knowledge; her work with medicine saves lives. She cannot imagine another way of living her life. 

“Also, he is a former member of their Order who claims to know more about them than Lexa, suggesting that they are keeping secrets from her. Lexa seemed unbothered by his allegations. She doesn’t trust him at all,” she finishes.

“After your last report, I discussed the situation with the Captain. He said that if we can do what you did before and use their own medicines to create the antibiotics, we have permission to manufacture it for the Sangeda. As for future aid and alliances, the Captain suggests that Andre be invited to bring his own delegation of Sangeda for the talks in Polis. Assuming his agreement to suspend their aggression against us holds up. Do you think Lexa will agree?” 

Clarke thinks for a moment. “She won’t want to, but I think I can convince her.”

“Good,” Kane says. “Then it’s settled. En. Blake you will accompany Lt. Griffin to the rendezvous with Brother Andre in the afternoon. Lieutenant Wick, tomorrow I want you to start making inquiries about this black market Lexa mentioned. See if you can find our stolen parts from the  _ Van Gogh _ . OK, unless there’s something else, you are all dismissed for the night.”

“Yes, Sir.” say Octavia and Wick together as they leave. 

Clarke waits until they are gone. “Sir? There’s something more I’d like to discuss privately with you.” Clarke doesn’t want to have this conversation, but she knows it would be irresponsible to keep it to herself. 

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Kane answers, anticipating what she is going to say.

“I don’t think my mom’s plan is working, Commander. The bond is intensifying. Getting stronger. I think you should test my blood again.” A heaviness begins to settle over her as she finishes. She knows that she can hide nothing from Kane, that she cannot lie. She also knows that she had been avoiding the truth herself to the point that she has been lying to herself. She doesn’t want to face the conflict threatening to overtake her. Her heart already knows what it wants. Her heart would have her stay with Lexa. For good. But she isn’t ready to let go of her identity as a Starfleet officer. She isn’t ready to let go of her family and friends. And who is she without all of that? What kind of life would she have in a place like this? She feels as though she is being torn into pieces. 

Kane sighs, picking up the turmoil brewing inside her. He unpacks the blood sample kit and wordlessly draws her blood for analysis. “Clarke, I can see that you are conflicted right now. You can talk to me. As a friend.” He approaches her, placing his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture of comfort. 

Clarke looks up at him. “I love her,” she whispers. She remembers the morning when she thought she was saying goodbye to Lexa forever. She begins to weep, resting her head on Kane’s shoulder. He pats her head in silence. 

_ It is just as Beatrice said, _ he thinks, recalling his conversation earlier that day, when he first arrived in the city with Wick and Gustus. It was a conversation which had left a lasting impression on him.

***

_ Earlier _

Kane enters the Lyceum a little out of breath. Gustus had not allowed them to slow their pace when they entered Polis. They had been riding at a gallop for almost an hour and Kane is a little worse for wear, still not used to being in the saddle. His adrenaline during the attack kept him hanging onto his reins, but now that they have dismounted, he can feel his body start to crash.

“A moment please, Gustus,” he says as he reaches into his kit for a pouch of water. He hands one to Wick, who accepts it eagerly. Gustus declines when offered.

“I will bring you to the Council immediately. They must know what happened.” Gustus corals them further into the building. 

The Lyceum is a retangular, columned building made of marble. It looks like it has been carved into the plateau. Kane wonders if Polis was built on the site of an old marble quarry. The first floor of the three story building looks like a kind of museum. There are rows of life size painted marble statues depicting men and women of different ages. Some are holding fierce weapons and wearing bulky armor. Others are wearing robes and holding scrolls or heavy tomes. Some look like ordinary hunters, farmers, or traders. There are brightly colored banners and tapestries lining the walls, some with floral or geometric shapes, others depicting complex scenes telling a story.

Gustus leads Kane up the broad central staircase to the top floor. The ornate wooden banister is polished and smooth, Kane notes as he wearily climbs the steps. As they pass the second floor, Kane catches sight of rows and rows of bookshelves and several blue robed Trigeda wandering and reading within. When they reach the third floor, there is a small entryway leading into a large ceremonial chamber. Seated on dais in front of him are seven robed figures. The central figure is a tall stately woman wearing loose-hanging amethyst robes. She has light brown skin, striking features, and is perhaps in her fifties. Her square jaw and full lips are set with authority and her piercing brown eyes look at Kane with dispassionate scrutiny. She has raven black hair that is braided and worn in a topknot bun, and she wears no makeup or jewelry.

Kane is sensitive enough that he can feel a fellow telepath when he meets one. Like Lexa, she has a presence that fills the room. The other seated figures around her are wearing royal blue robes and various styles of topknots and buns. They all look at Kane in silence. 

“Mother,” says Gustus with a low bow. “I have brought the Federation delegation, Commander Kane and Lieutenant Wick at Heda’s order. We were ambushed by the Sangeda at the crossroads.”

“Welcome to Polis, Commander Kane and Lieutenant Wick. I am Beatrice, Mother Superior of the Order and head of the Council in Polis. I am relieved you arrived safely. Were there not more of you expected? Where is Wanheda? And the warrior, Octavia?” She looks to Gustus as she asks. Beatrice’s smoky contralto voice reminds Kane of rolling thunder. Or a lion’s roar.

“Wanheda would not leave Heda’s side in battle, Mother. And Ensign Blake rode to protect her.” Gustus is still bowing.

Members of the Council murmur to each other. Beatrice clenches her jaw, but only slightly. Kane can feel her tightly containing her emotions. Her gaze snaps in his direction when she feels him probing her with his empathic senses. He backs off immediately. 

“So it appears that the reports are true,” she says, almost to herself. “Our people will have much to discuss. A bond to Heda is no trivial matter. I hope that you and your people understand this,” she says getting right to business. She looks at Kane intently. Her gaze is unsettling and Kane feels completely disarmed by her commanding presence. 

He clears his throat. “Mother,” he mimics Gustus’s bow, though he rises immediately. “Thank you for your warm welcome. I look forward to the upcoming negotiations between our people. We are aware of the issue of the bond,” he continues awkwardly. “We are working on a solution to slow its progress until we...er understand its repercussions better. The two have agreed to abstain from physical contact for now. We are trying to avoid any permanent effects to Lt. Griffin.”

“So you do intend to take Wanheda with you when you leave our planet?” Beatrice asks pointly.

“Of course,” answers Kane, realizing now that Beatrice had expected something different. “But Lt. Griffin has free will, of course. She is always free to resign her commission with Starfleet. It is her choice,” he says. “Though I expect her mother will want to have a say in the matter,” he adds wryly. 

“I see,” she says slowly. “So I am to understand that the matter is not yet settled.” She resists another impulse to frown. “But if you think it is only physical contact that deepens the bond, you are mistaken. It surely is a factor, but it’s not the only one. Their bond will deepen every day that they stay together, touch or no touch.” She grinds her teeth, a sign that Kane understands immediately as displeasure. “But for now, we must wait for our scouts to return with news of the Sangeda raid. And I imagine you two are wearied from your journey. We will continue this conversation at a later time. Gustus, take them to their quarters in the Citadel. Feel free to wander the city after you settle in and have a bite to eat. You are our honored guests here. We shall reconvene later, when we know more.” Kane has the distinct impression that they have been unequivocally dismissed. 

Gustus finally releases his bow and takes the officers back down the stairs and over to the tower. And then Kane must climb more stairs, so he occupies his mind with what he is going to tell his Captain and the Doctor in his next report. He’ll brief the Captain on the raid, he resolves, but he will hold off on the rest until he has had a chance to talk to Clarke. 

_ Yes, that’s what I’ll do _ , he thinks, out of breath and ready for a nap.

***

“Lexa!” Anya calls with a relieved grin. She enters Lexa’s quarters with the confidence of familiarity, “I was beginning to think that you were never coming back.” Then they give each other a warm hug. Anya has always felt like a towering figure to Lexa, even though she is only a couple of inches taller. She is wearing her usual long black leather jacket with the fur trimming, and black pants and tank top underneath. Her honey brown long hair is down and her almond eyes are looking at Lexa with obvious curiosity. 

“Mother has been in a state for the past week, when you didn’t return,” she grimaces. “I swear I thought I saw that vein in her forehead pop out at least twice when your name came up.” Anya continues regarding Lexa expectantly. She is certainly not going to be the one to bring the most obvious subject up in conversation.

Lexa remembers the last message she sent to the Council with satisfaction. She is feeling self-conscious under Anya’s gaze, but still manages to keep her expression neutral. “Good,” she says. “I will not be ordered about like a child. I am not her disciple anymore,” she finishes obstinately.

Anya just continues to look at Lexa. Both of them had been raised by the Order, and both of them consider the other to be the only family she has. So Anya knows Lexa better than anyone. Even Beatrice. And Anya knew the minute she first looked at Lexa that something had changed with her. No, not something - everything. The Lexa that left Polis almost a month ago was cold and joyless and singularly devoted to her duty. The Lexa that returned is a new Lexa. The hopeful, shining woman in front of her looks like someone who has much more than duty to live for. 

Lexa notices Anya’s perceptive scrutiny. And because it is Anya and no one else, she just gives in. She smiles. A wide, genuine, beautiful smile that takes Anya’s breath away. Happiness begins to roll off Lexa in waves and Anya can feel her own spirits lift with Lexa’s emotive power. Anya’s eyes widen and her lips part in a crooked smile.

“Tell me everything,” she says. Then she pulls up a chair by the table in the corner and pours herself a glass of spirits from the pitcher in the cupboard, like she has done many times before.

Lexa sits down next to her and tells her everything.

“So, now we just have to convince her to stay?” Anya has already become fully invested in Lexa’s plan to court Clarke in Polis. She rubs her palms together. “I cannot wait to meet the woman who was able to so skillfully steal your heart, Lexa. She must be something,” Anya reflects. “But what of her people? The Federation? Do you trust them?” 

“I trust that they mean well,” answers Lexa after some consideration. “But the Federation looks down on people like ours. People who do not have their technology. I fear they will not see us as equal partners. I warn you now, Anya, their arrogance is astounding. You will have to refrain from taking offense. It is just their way. Try not to hurt anyone?” Lexa looks at her with mock concern. Then they both burst out in laughter.

***

_ Later _

Clarke is drained and emotionally exhausted when she finally returns to her room. After her cry, she and Kane had spent some time analysing her blood sample. She was correct after all. The _ charismatum _ has almost fully transformed her DNA. Abby was furious when they reported the news. 

Clarke doesn’t know what to feel. She knows how she feels, but not how she is supposed to feel. Her Starfleet training would tell her to keep as much distance between herself and Lexa as possible until Abby perfects her treatment. A treatment that will be ready within days and would sever the bond once she takes it. And their orders have not changed. No physical contact. Abby and Kane didn’t dare to expand that directive to their mental connection. 

Clarke begins chewing on her lip, her brow crinkling in a frown. She thinks about the words Kane recited from the Mother Superior.  _ Their bond will deepen every day they stay together _ . She starts to pace. She wishes she would have taken Wells’ Vulcan mind training more seriously when he offered to teach her. She could use some perspective right now. But all she has to work with are a jumble of conflicting, terrifying emotions. She has a heartbreaking decision to make where each outcome will lead to devastating loss. And she has to figure out which loss she can live with. There will be no going back on her choice. 

_ So no pressure, _ she thinks ruefully. 

She looks at her watch. It’s almost ten. Clarke can hear people still shuffling up and down the staircase to Lexa’s room. She sighs. All she wants to do is get in bed. She walks over to the wardrobe and pokes around. Every article of clothing is in Clarke’s size. There are evening dresses, leather metal-strewn jackets, and casual wear. She finds a silky black robe and pulls it out, setting it on the bed.  _ Lexa always thinks of everything _ , she notes with a smile.

She slowly pulls off her uniform, ignoring the aches in what feels like every muscle. She really wants a bath, but is too tired to drag her body up and down that staircase again. So she makes do with the washing basin in her room. She knows there is running water somewhere, but she hasn’t had time to look around.  _ Tomorrow _ , she thinks.

She takes everything off, then wraps herself in the black robe before getting into bed. The sheets are just as soft and silky as the robe and she takes a moment to luxuriate in the sensual feel against her skin. She notices the fragrance by the bed is Lexa’s scent, the same flower she left for her at the underground station. The smell triggers the same memory. The first time they made love. Lexa’s skin against her skin. Clarke’s breath catches in her throat.

_ Lexa, _ she calls out. She opens the telepathic gates to her building desire, to the steady pulse of her swollen cliterus. 

Then she hears a muffled shout, a door slam, and the sound of several people hurrying down the stairway. Seconds later Lexa is there. Clarke knows she is lying in her own bed naked, feeling the softness of her sheets against her skin. And she is thinking about the first night they made love. 

Together, their memory is perfect. Though they did not have the benefit of the bond on that first night, they are able to re-experience it again telepathically, with all that entails. 

As the replay of her kisses move from Lexa’s lips to the rest of her body, Clarke begins to stroke her own breasts, then pinching her nipples. The pleasure sends a shock through her body then through the bond. Lexa shudders. She is experiencing the vivid memory of Clarke’s lips on her skin, Clarke’s feelings as she devours her, and Clarke reacting to this memory all at once. Her back arches and she quickly starts lightly stroking her clit just as Clarke puts her mouth on her pussy during their shared memory. 

Clarke follows suit. And as they continue to recreate that night together in their minds, their fingers become more deliberate. As the pleasure of one builds, so the pleasure of the other is magnified twofold. When Lexa climaxes, Clarke is only seconds behind. And then Lexa comes again. When the memory gets to Lexa’s hand inside of Clarke, Clarke angles as many fingers as she can inside her cunt and fucks herself until she is panting and screaming  _ Lexa _ silently in bed, the sheets twisted around her. She almost has another organism from the shockwave of Lexa’s mirrored reaction.

Soon they are running out of memory. Just the tender moments lying in bed together are left, before Clarke leaves Lexa and returns to the away team. The tenderness between them has only deepened since that night.

Clarke holds onto that feeling as she slips into sleep, clutching her pillow like the warm back of her beloved. 

  
  
  



	9. Raven

Raven runs her tricorder over the plasma conduits one more time. Sweat drips from her neck, and she is covered in grease as usual. Crouching low, her body is contorted into a strange and uncomfortable position as she examines the damage inside the open panel. The leaks are microscopic, but they are there just the same. 

_ Fuck _ . 

As if she doesn’t have enough to do already. Raven has been running herself ragged for the last ten days, barely stopping to eat and sleep, to restore the various systems on the  _ Ark _ . Everyone is depending on her and her team. Because she is the only one with any hope of figuring out how to get the ship off of this irritating planet. The burden of her task both weighs her down and pushes her forward. 

_ Fine. _ She’ll just have to add the plasma leaks to the long list of repairs and problems they would have to resolve before they could get the  _ Ark _ off the planet and back into space. There are the antigrav thrusters, which are too damaged to fix without spare parts that she doesn’t have. Speaking of missing materials, Raven isn’t sure how she is going to repair the massive structural damage the  _ Ark _ sustained during its crash landing without finding or manufacturing more aluminum, tritanium, and duranium alloy reserves. Monty has been running continuous scans across the planet for any useful materials, but aside from some very small pockets, the planet seems to be bare. 

Fixing the damage to the ship would only solve part of their problem though. She still needs to find a way to power the ship once it’s repaired. Power is still a major issue. If she had the power, she could use the replicators to fabricate what she needs. But the  _ Ark _ was already running low on deuterium to power the warp core before the crash, which was compounded when they vented all the plasma from the nacelles just before the  _ Ark _ crashed. Otherwise the crash would have caused an explosion in engineering. Solar power will get them by on the planet’s surface, but it doesn’t have the current capacity to replicate the materials she needs on such a large scale, and it certainly isn’t a solution for deep space. Not with the kind of power they need to operate a starship. She isn’t sure how she is supposed to get everyone home when there simply are not enough resources to fully repair and fly the ship.

She lets out a slow steady breath, the weight of her task wearing heavily on her shoulders.  _ But there are some things that are in my power to fix,  _ she resolves. Abby has been on her back about the transporters. They will only be able to use them sparingly, but Raven does think they will be online soon.  _ OK, I’m done here. Unless I can find a way to seal these conduits, powering the core will be a problem _ , she thinks. She puts her gear back into her kit and closes the paneling exposing the conduits.

“Jordan to Reyes,” Jasper calls over the intercom. He sounds slightly panicked.

“Yeah Jasper, go ahead,” she answers getting up off the floor.

“Um, can you come to Ten Forward? The replicator is acting up again,” he says with a slight whine. “My mac and cheese smells funny.”

Raven groans. It’s lunchtime. She will have to recalibrate the food replicator right now or she is going to hear it nonstop from the rest of the crew. They are all sick of emergency rations, and the Captain hasn’t authorized them to forage or trade for fresh food outside the base. She decides it would be wise to go to Ten Forward before she goes to check on the transporters. She’ll visit Abby for her pain shot along the way. 

“I’m on the way,” she says after tapping her combadge.

She wipes the sweat and gunk from her face with a rag before she goes, leaving a trace of grease lining her jawline. She exits the cargo bay and heads for Deck 10. She has regained most of her mobility using the brace Abby made for her, and the daily medication means that she isn’t in constant agony. Despite these improvements to her standard of living, Raven’s sour mood hasn’t improved. The awareness of this fact only makes her mood even more sour. She is oscillating between feeling powerless, frustrated, and inadequate to the task at hand. And underneath it all, driving everything else, is a deep sense of abandonment. The pit in her stomach gnaws at her as the anxiety she has been avoiding threatens to spill over. 

When she arrives at Ten Forward, there is a small crowd gathered around the replicator waiting for her, with Jasper in the center still smelling the orange mass on his plate with suspicion. Ensigns Monroe and Miller are amicably chatting next to him. Raven approaches the group, giving them a business-like and uninspired smile. 

“Raven! My hero! My friend!” Jasper brightens when he sees her, giving her his signature foolishly sweet smile. He rushes over to her with his rejected meal. “Raven, you can’t expect me to eat this.” He waves the meal under her nose.

Her empty stomach retches and she pushes him away. “Ugh, Jasper. A verbal description would have been fine.” She takes a couple of breaths trying to calm her stomach. She should really eat herself. Pulling out her hyperspanner, she approaches the replicator, nodding to Monroe and Miller as she approaches.

“Hey Raven,” says Monroe, before she gets back to her animated conversation. “Anyway, I heard they’re treating her like some kind of celebrity,” she continues to Miller. “They even want to make a statue of her. Wick said their leaders expected some kind of arranged marriage with their Commander. Can you imagine?” She and Miller howl with laughter.

“I heard Clarke is under some kind of mind control,’ says Miller more seriously. “My friend in sickbay said Doctor Griffin has been up day and night working on some kind of cure.” Monroe nods, confirming she has heard the same. 

“What have you heard, Raven?” Miller asks, turning over to her as she scans and calibrates the replicator. “You and Clarke are close. Is she really going to become Queen of the Trigeda, like Wick said?” He tries to keep a straight face, but he fails, bursting at the seams. 

Raven laughs nervously. “Well I haven’t been invited to any weddings lately, so I think Wick is pulling your leg,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“But you were together on the away team, right? What happened? Is Clarke really being mind controlled by that Trigeda Commander or something?” Monroe’s eyes are wide as she tries to extract more gossip from Raven.

Raven recalls what she saw during the feast at Tondc the night before the ship crashed - Clarke and Lexa, wrapped up in each other and smiling stupidly, with complete abandon. Totally in love. 

“Or something,” Raven answers ambiguously. She is saved from commenting more by Bellamy’s entrance into the lounge. He waves when he sees her and joins the group, interrupting the conversation. 

“What’s going on?” Bellamy's mood is light but Raven can see the heavy bags under his eyes, black lines that she sees on herself when she looks in the mirror. His hair is more disheveled than usual. 

“Oh, you know. Everything needs to be fixed twice on this planet before it sticks, as usual,” Raven complains, glad for the distraction and the chance to change the subject.

“How are the repairs going?” he asks sympathetically. Monroe and Miller go to sit down at a table, back to their gossip once they realize that they will get no new juicy tidbits from Raven. She is relieved to be alone with Bellamy for this conversation. She appreciates that he is one of the few crew members that has not made a personal request of her mechanical skills.

“Overall, about as good as can be expected with what I have to work with. Abby is breathing down my neck about the transporters. She’s developing some kind of treatment for Clarke, and she’s all worked up over getting the transporters online. She wants to beam it to her as soon as it's done.” Raven sighs. “What the hell is going on with Clarke, Bell?” She is speaking in a lowered voice so that the others can’t easily overhear them. Raven doesn’t like admitting how little she knows about Clarke’s current situation.

“I don’t know everything,” he says, “but I talked to Octavia last night. She said Clarke and Lexa have some kind of mind connection, telepathy or something. Clarke was kidnapped in a raid yesterday on the way to Polis, and Lexa was able to track her across the desert without using a trail or a tricorder. She also said that Abby ordered them not to touch each other,” he explains sympathetically, “so she said all they do is stare at each other without talking.”

Raven looks at Bellamy with disbelief, then concern. “Ouch. I’m sure she was extra pleased to get that order from her mother. Is she OK, though? You said she got kidnapped?” 

“Yeah, O said when they finally got to her, Clarke had already secured her own release.” He laughs. “Typical.”

Raven pauses. “Bell, should we be worried?”

He doesn’t answer at first, taking a moment to think about her question in earnest. “Honestly, I don’t really know, Raven. You saw her face the morning we were supposed to leave this planet. She’s only getting in deeper. I’m starting to wonder whether she will be with us when you finally get this bucket back in space.” Bellamy’s usual light expression is deadly serious, and the pit in Raven’s stomach brutally nags at her. “But aren’t you Clarke’s best friend? Why are you asking  _ me _ about this? Don’t tell me it's weird now that Clarke has a new lover?”

“No,” Raven almost shouts, eyes wide. “That’s not it at all,” she says more softly. “It just seems like she’s been distant lately, avoiding me since the crash. Clarke usually tells me everything going on with her. She tells me when she has gas, for fuck’s sake,” she complains. “So it’s just a little weird that she won’t talk to me about this. And it’s not like I’ve been going through an easy time of it, either. But I guess we’ve both just been so busy,” she mumbles. She tries to focus on the replicator repairs to prove her point, but finds her heart isn’t into it. 

Bellamy considers what he has heard. “Again, I just keep thinking back to the look on her face the morning we were supposed to leave.” He leans against the counter. “Then after the  _ Ark _ crashed, once the emergency was over, it almost seemed like she was relieved. And while everyone else is hustling to get the ship up and running, Princess is walking around daydreaming and sneaking out to meet her Commander.” Bellamy looks at Raven as if the whole thing is obvious. 

When she just looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish, he continues. “Raven, when the Ark crashed, it solved all of her problems. This way she doesn’t have to leave Lexa. At least not right away. As long as the  _ Ark _ is an unspacewrothy wreck, the Princess gets to keep her Commander. But once it’s all fixed…” He looks at her again, certain she will get it this time.

She does.

“What the hell, Griffin,” she says under her breath. “I just don’t know what to do with that woman sometimes,” she says, exasperated. Clarke should have just said something. Raven wouldn’t have taken it personally. “So she doesn’t want me to fix the ship and is probably sitting there feeling guilty that she doesn’t want me to fix the ship.” 

Bellamy just nods. 

“Well, she has nothing to worry about at the moment,” grumbles Raven. “I know you all think I’m a miracle worker, but I don’t have the ability to just conjure up materials from thin air. Not without a shit ton of power anyway. Power that we don’t have,” she adds as she returns her attention to her task.

Bellamy stretches out in his position against the counter. “Just do your best, Raven. We don’t expect anything more.”

And just when she starts to think he might be a sweet guy after all, he says, “and if you need anyone to warm your bed now that Clarke is occupied, just let me know.” He winks, giving her a wide, shameless grin.

“Ew, Bellamy,” she cries out, hitting him in the chest. “Why did you have to go and ruin the moment?” She shakes her head at him, rolling her eyes. He mockingly holds his hands to his heart, looking wounded, before waving his goodbye and leaving Raven to finish her work.

Once she has successfully recalibrated the food replicator, receiving Jasper's enthusiastic approval on the new plate of mac and cheese, Raven packs up her tools, ready to leave for sickbay. 

“Green to Reyes,” Monty calls over the intercom.

“Go ahead,” she answers. This is her life now - one interruption after another. 

“We’re ready to test the transporters. I was up all night figuring it out. I think we have it this time.”

“OK, Monty. I’m on my way.” Abby will have to wait. But she will be happy if the test is successful. One less person pulling at her attention and time. While her engineering crew takes care of the basic structural repair, the most complicated jobs belong to Raven. And there are a lot of complicated repairs.

She is thankful that there are highly competent officers on the  _ Ark _ like Green who she can trust with such important systems like the transporters. Once she showed him how to overcome the atmospheric radiation, he was able to apply the theory to the transporters without needing her to look over his shoulder every second. When she arrives at Transporter Room 4, Monty is lifting a cargo crate onto the transporter platform, putting it down with a heavy thud. 

“Oh hey, Raven. Good timing.” Monty returns to his console station and starts to input the coordinates for the test. “Green to Murphy. Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Murphy is just outside the camp perimeter. Let’s see if it works this time.” Monty crosses his fingers before tapping the touch pad. “Energizing.”

The crate fades out, and disappears from the transporter room. 

“Got it,” says Murphy through his combadge. “All the contents are intact.”

Monty’s expression relaxes. “OK, now I’m going to beam it back. Energizing.”

The crate reappears, none the worse for wear. Monty walks over, opens the crate, and scans it with his tricorder. 

“We’re in business,” he says proudly, closing the crate again.

“Good work Monty!” Ravan exclaims, finally having something to celebrate. “I’ll let the Doctor know immediately. I need to drop by sickbay anyway.” She waves goodbye, congratulating him one more time, and heads to sickbay.

As she walks through the corridors of the ship, her crewmates nod to her as she passes, some stopping her to make personal repair requests. Raven always gives them some kind of noncommittal response, limiting her answers to grunts or ‘hmms.’ She does not have time for this shit. 

When she arrives at sickbay, Abby doesn’t look up from her work. She has a tight, absorbed look on her face and she is hunched over her computer. One of the nurses waves at Raven when she enters. When she walks over to Abby, she stands next to her for a few seconds before clearing her throat to get her attention. Abby looks up as if she is disoriented, as if she had been asleep and had just been woken up. 

“Oh, Raven,” she says, her confusion abating. “I apologize if you’ve been waiting long.” Abby turns away from her work. “I assume you are here for your medication?” She automatically performs the rote action of filling the hypospray before Raven has time to answer. “How are the transporters coming by the way?” She asks, unable to hide her sense of urgency.

“Hi Abby,” Raven answers as the hypospray releases the medicine into her bloodstream. “I’m just now coming from Transporter Room 4. I’m happy to report that the transporter is operational. Just let Monty know when you are ready with your treatment for Clarke.” Raven isn’t sure what she should ask Abby about Clarke’s situation. 

“Oh thank goodness. I just don’t know what that girl is thinking,” Abby says, needing no prompt whatsoever to speak her mind about her daughter. “She seems utterly unable to think rationally when it comes to this Lexa situation,” she says, clearly trying to contain her rising temper. Like the other senior officers on the ship, Abby looks like she could use a couple of days of R & R. “My protein blocker should be ready by tomorrow, so hopefully we can put this telepathic bond to rest, and Clarke can pursue whatever romance she wants with Lexa without the side effect of permanent genetic mutation,” she rants. “Not to mention, oh, she will have to stay on this planet for the rest of her life or risk a ‘living death,’ if they let this bond fully develop.” Abby sighs impatiently. Raven can tell that her anger is fueled by a deep sense of anxiety for her child. She can certainly understand the pressure she is under.

“We’ll get Clarke back,” Raven promises. “There’s no way she abandons her career and the crew to live in such a primitive society.” But Raven’s words are hollow. She remembers her conversation with Bellamy earlier and she can’t help but agree with him. No one, including her mother, could be sure of what Clarke will do, because no one has ever seen Clarke like this before - so wrapped up in another person and ready to sacrifice everything for her. But no one has ever seen Clarke in love with anyone before either. Raven’s empty stomach sours further.

Abby absent-mindedly nods her head in agreement before putting her attention furiously back into her protein blocker. Raven waves a silent goodbye and sees herself out. 

She starts to briefly think about getting a meal when she hears her Captain’s voice through her combadge, “Jaha to Reyes, come in.”

“Go ahead Captain.” 

“Please report to my ready room,” he orders.

“On my way,” she answers. Food will have to wait.

She is approached by two more crew members on her way to meet the Captain with requests. She is starting to dread seeing that familiar, self-serving wave from one of her crewmates hoping to ingratiate themselves with her so that she will fulfill their requests. 

When she arrives to meet the Captain, she realizes that she needs a break from the  _ Ark _ . When he asks for her report on the various repairs around the ship, she recalls the issue with the plasma conduits. She asks him for leave to depart the camp and go to Tondc to see if they have a natural gum or resin to plug the holes. It’s a longshot, but she is looking for any excuse to get away from the constant demands from the crew. The Captain, seeming to sense her building exasperation, grants her the leave. Relieved, she forgets about eating and heads straight for the transporter room.

It’s after 3pm when she beams just outside of Tondc. Monty sent her to a spot out of eyeshot from the patrolling guards so as not to startle them. At least she now knows that the sensors are also working properly. When she arrives at the village entrance, the guards welcome her like an old friend. No one asks her to do anything, instead offering to help with whatever she needs. Raven is embarrassed that she was disparaging the Trigeda to Abby only an hour ago. Now that the Federation has established trust with these villagers, their hostile attitude towards the alien visitors has transformed into hospitality. And even though Raven did not participate in the raid to capture and cure the reapers, they all knew that it was Raven who made the phasers and other technology work. Raven gets the impression that the Trigeda gossip with each other just as much as her own crew.

After she describes what she needs, the Trigeda guards recommend that Raven visit the trading post just outside the village, and they point the way. Since it doesn't seem like it’s too far, Raven decides to walk. Regaining her mobility has been a shining light in the midst of a sea of crap. Abby’s pain management has meant a return to almost normal for Raven. The slight limp doesn’t slow her down much as she follows the path and her tricorder to the trading post.

After about ten minutes, she finds what she’s looking for. It is a sturdy wooden structure, similar to the buildings in Tondc. Animal furs hang from the large open windows. Raven approaches the door, and finding it unlocked, she enters. Inside, she observes a large counter and a room filled with bookshelves and cubbies filled with various goods. Behind the counter is an attractive blond, fair-skinned Trigeda woman of perhaps thirty. She is wearing her hair partially braided and pulled back out of her face, revealing high cheekbones and hazel eyes that brighten when she sees Raven. She is wearing a light sleeveless tunic and dark leather pants. On the counter in front of her is an assortment of scrap that she is separating into different piles. In the back, behind a curtain, Raven can hear someone grunting while butchering an animal.

“Hi,” Raven says to the woman. “I’m looking for something. I was wondering if you could help.” She walks closer inside, moving from the shadows of the doorway into the natural light of the post’s interior. 

“You’re one of the Sky People,” the woman says with delight. “Welcome! I saw you at our feast celebrating the cure of the reapers. My name is Niylah. Please, how can I help you?” Her eyes are kind and her voice is calming. 

Raven introduces herself and explains what she is looking for, careful to emphasize her need for a heat resistant material. Niylah listens carefully as she speaks, nodding her head. She walks over to a cupboard and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a small jar. 

“Try this,” she says holding out the jar while turning back to face Raven, who is walking towards her. When she looks Raven over and notices the brace, her kind eyes turn into fiery curiosity. “So this is why you no longer need the crutch,” she says with fascination. She leans over and starts to examine the brace. She reaches out to touch the material and her hand accidently grazes against Raven’s knee, tickling her. 

Raven giggles, her face breaking into a reluctant smile.

Niylah looks at Raven with amusement, eyes glinting with mischief. She looks at Raven’s knee with clear temptation, but thinks better of it. She and Raven look at each other awkwardly instead. 

Niylah clears her throat. “Your brace is incredible,” she says, more collected. “Do you think you could make one out of a strong plant fiber? I’d like to look at it more closely if that’s OK.” She is so earnest in her request that Raven just silently nods her assent. 

Niylah runs her hands along the brace, careful to avoid Raven’s knees, but still unavoidably touching parts of Raven’s leg. Goosebumps start to form on Raven’s neck and arms. Thinking about Niylah’s question about materials, Raven has an epiphany of her own about the design of her brace.

When Niylah has finished looking it over, Raven can see the wheels turning. “I can bring you the specs to trade for this,” she offers, holding the jar Niylah had given her. “I can come back tomorrow with them.”

Niylah nods, eagerly agreeing to the deal.

Raven is running her tricorder over the goop in the jar when she suddenly feels dizzy. Then, time slows down and she is falling backward onto the floor. Then it is black.

“Raven?”

“Raven.”

“I’m on the way,” Raven mumbles, returning to consciousness. When she opens her eyes, she finds she is lying on a divan, her uniform jacket open. Niylah is sitting next to her, pressing a damp cloth gently onto her forehead, cooling her. Raven’s stomach suddenly growls very very loudly.

She laughs nervously and she says with embarrassment, “I guess I forgot to eat today.” It is now closer to dinnertime.

Niylah looks at her like she is a foolish child and walks over to a small kitchen area. They are in the back part of the trading post, behind a curtain separating the storefront from the living space. Raven can hear a ladle scraping a clay pot. Niylah approaches with a bowl of something steaming in her hands and places it on the table next to the divan.

“Please eat,” she says with concern in her eyes, as she gestures towards the savory bowl of stew. Raven obliges.

“Why are you helping me?” Raven asks when she is finished with the meal. It’s been too long since someone has just done something nice for her without expecting something in return. 

“My mother was killed by the reapers. You helped to end the reaping,” Niylah says simply. Now there is sorrow in her hazel eyes. 

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Raven says sincerely, sitting up straighter and trying to swing her legs to the side of the couch. “And really, thanks for the meal. It was delicious.” Raven can feel her strength starting to return. “But I should really get back to my ship.” She doesn’t really know why she is in such a hurry. 

“But you’re weak,” protest Niylah. “How are you going to make the journey?”

Now it is Raven’s turn to smile mischievously. “Just watch,” she says. “And I’ll come back tomorrow like I promised.” Raven gathers her things and the jar of resin, giving Niylah one final devilish smile before she goes. “Reyes to Green,” she calls on her combadge. “I’m ready to return. Energize.”

Niylah watches in amazement as she beams away.

When Raven rematerializes back in Transporter Room 4, she is still smiling. She thanks Monty and decides to call it a day, heading back to her quarters. It has been too long since she just took a night to recuperate and get a full night’s sleep. If she keeps going this way, Abby is liable to order her to her quarters anyway. 

When she reaches her room, she reflects on her sudden lifted spirits. She thinks about the feeling of friendly camaraderie she felt with Niylah, and she can’t help but think about Clarke and their friendship. 

Raven sighs. She misses her friend. And because Clarke is the stubborn one in their relationship, not Raven, Raven decides that enough is enough.

“Raven to Clarke,” she calls on her combadge, settling into her bed and getting comfortable. 

“Raven,” answers Clarke. “Hi.” 

“Hey,” says Raven, pausing for a moment. “Do you have a minute to talk? I’m taking the night off and just felt like talking to my friend. Is that OK?”

“Sure,” Clarke replies. “I’m just hanging out in my room too. I’m glad you called.”

“How are things going over there?” Raven asks, trying to ease into the conversation. There is so much she doesn’t know about Clarke’s present situation. 

“Great. You know, except for pissing off my girlfriend,” Clarke answers with wry laughter. Raven is taken aback by Clarke’s characterization of her relationship, but doesn’t let it show in her voice.

“Let me guess,” offers Raven. “She’s finally met the legendary Griffin bullheadedness.” Raven can recount too many times Clarke’s stubbornness has made things more difficult for everybody. 

“Heh,” Clarke snickers. “Well, she better get used to it. Her and that Mother Superior of hers. I only take orders from the Captain.” 

“You’ve had a day, I see,” Raven is very curious about the details of Clarke’s story. “And here I was going to tell you about the cute trader I met today,” she laughs. 

“Believe me Raven, I would much rather talk about your cute trader. What’s their name?”

Raven starts to tell her about Niylah when Clarke suddenly cuts her off.

“Raven, I’m sorry, I better go. Gustus just got here. I’m being summoned,” she complains. “But I’m really glad you called.” 

“Yeah, me too. Don’t be a stranger, OK?” Raven says. “And don’t be an asshole. Apologize to your girlfriend.” 

“Yes ma’am,” replies Clarke reluctantly. “Goodnight, Raven.”

“Goodnight, Clarke.” 

When the call is over, Raven turns off her light and slumps into bed. It takes only a moment for her to drift off into sleep, with a warm meal in her stomach and the soothing relief of the beginnings of a mended friendship to pave the way.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still in quarantine? Is there something you wish you could be doing right now? Let me know, and I will do my best to work it in.


	10. The Hesitation

_ Polis _

_ Lexa _ . Clarke tosses in her sleep.

The sun is barely peeking from the horizon when Clarke starts to stir, her first morning in Polis. Dull rays cast a pale glow through the small windows of her room. Not quite conscious, she clings to the in-between place of sleep and wakefulness, when dreams sometimes feel corporeal. Steadfastly clutching the pillow in her arms, her mind is still joined with Lexa’s. She can almost feel Lexa next to her, fast asleep and dreaming of Clarke’s arms around her. When she opens her eyes, the illusion vanishes, the pillow is just a pillow once more, and Lexa is upstairs in her own bed. 

_ No, I’m not ready yet _ , she pouts. She closes her eyes again, trying to recapture the dream’s blissful warmth, only to find fleeting, unsatisfactory echoes.  _ Lexa _ . Clarke reaches out for her warmth, so close yet beyond her grasp. Letting her consciousness drift closer, she begins to feel what Lexa feels - the soft sheets against her warm, bare skin, her thighs sticky from the night before. Clarke squeezes her pillow harder. Lexa’s disembodied warmth fills Clarke with an inescapable and unyielding longing. 

The sunrise has begun in earnest now, and after a while, she finally surrenders to the pull of the day. She gently withdraws her mind from Lexa, careful not to wake her. She is alone now, but still feeling wholly content. She yawns, and stretches herself out in the bed. She realizes that she could really stand to clean up and remembers that there are baths on the floor below her. She gets out of bed and rummages through the wardrobe, finding a robe more suited for the baths made of light terry cloth and falling below her knees. 

She hums an old Earth jazz standard as she descends the wide stairway to the baths. When she arrives, there is a servant busily feeding a wood furnace at the entrance, who bows respectfully when she enters. He shows her to a partitioned off area to her right, and she can hear him turn a heavy knob followed by the rush of water filling the tub. The servant shows her the many scented oils on the table and asks her to choose her favorite. She picks the one that reminds her of Lexa, and he prepares her bath. When he is finished, he adjusts the partition to give her privacy and waits at a respectful distance while she bathes. 

Clarke settles into her bath. The white ceramic bathtub is deep and curved to comfortably fit a humanoid body. She submerges herself as far as she can and lets the perfectly warm water unfurl the tension of the past few days. And without meaning to, Clarke starts to daydream. Inhaling the floral sweet scent, she imagines what it would be like, living here in the Citadel with Lexa. The vision is clearest when she thinks about a potential day to day life with Lexa. It feels like a life of infinite depth and possibility. A life of unbridled, all-consuming passion. A life of closeness and intimacy. But Polis, the city itself is still empty for Clarke. There is no one else here she knows or loves. There is still so much she doesn’t know about this place, these people.  _ Could I really abandon everyone I know and love for Lexa alone? Could I give up my comfortable life on the Ark for a life in Polis?  _ Only an empty city answers. 

_ I guess that’s why I’m here,  _ she thinks, trying not to get too wrapped up in the fantasy or the uncertainty. She clears her mind and focuses on her breath, determined to take one moment to relax before another very long day. If she starts thinking beyond this moment, she isn’t sure she will be able to leave this tub, let alone leave this tower.

_ Good morning, Clarke _ , Lexa calls to her, entering her train of thought. She is just waking up, and Clarke can picture her drowsy expression.

She smiles involuntarily, sinking until the water is up to her nose. She feels giddy and starts to giggle. _Good morning, sleepyhead._ _Did you sleep in?_ Clarke teases, knowing full well it is barely past dawn.

Lexa happily soaks up Clarke’s affection. _Mm_ , she says sulkily. _I want to see you._ _Will you join me for breakfast?_

_ Sure _ , she smiles.  _ Just give me twenty minutes. _

_ OK _ , she says grudgingly.  _ Enjoy your bath. But don’t take too long. _

Clarke grins widely as she quickly finishes washing. This is the Lexa she cherishes the most. The open, ordinary, insanely cute Lexa. The Lexa before she puts on her immense responsibility and becomes Heda to her people. Clarke drains the bath and dries off, wrapping her damp hair in a bun before donning the robe and climbing the stairs to her floor. She wants so badly to just keep climbing upwards to Lexa, instead of stopping to get dressed first. Wants so badly to appear before her, drop her robe, and give her the good morning both of them deserve. But she resists. She must still play Abby’s game. For now, at least. 

She pauses before putting on her Starfleet uniform, almost reaching for the more comfortable and flattering clothing in the wardrobe. But this is a mission and she is still on duty, so she pulls the blue and black uniform jacket over her undershirt. She runs her hand along the two pips on her right collar, denoting her rank. She had been looking forward to the day that she would be promoted to a full lieutenant, exchanging the black pip for a second gold one. A goal that seems more and more alien to her each day that passes. But a goal she has not yet abandoned. 

_ Are you coming? _ Lexa asks, breaking into her thoughts eagerly, impatiently. It has only been eleven minutes. 

Clarke can feel her anticipation. Her apprehension. She feels it in herself too. And not for the first or last time, Clarke asks herself,  _ What are you doing, Griffin? _ With every step she takes closer to Lexa, she can feel Lexa’s hope grow. The closer their bond, the greater the loss if Clarke decides to stay with her own people.  _ How can I do this to Lexa when I am so unsure? _ Clarke hesitates before leaving her room. But Lexa knows the risks, and she is waiting for Clarke. And Clarke wants so badly to see her.

_ I’m coming, _ she finally answers, resigned to face whatever consequences come to pass. Consequences which will inevitably flow from drawing ever closer to Lexa.

When she reaches the top of the stairs, she reaches for the door handle but hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do. She doesn’t feel like a guest. She knocks anyway.

“Enter,” Lexa shouts from inside. When she sees that it is Clarke, she looks surprised, then apologetic. “I thought you were my servants bringing breakfast,” she explains. “And you are always welcome in my bedroom, Clarke,” she says softly. “You don’t have to knock or announce yourself. I want you to feel comfortable here,” she adds. Clarke is happy for the clarification, understanding that Lexa had just read her uncertainty and answered it. “But you’re finally here. Please, sit.” Lexa excitedly gestures to the empty chair across the corner from hers, speaking as if much more than a night had passed since they last saw each other.

“Thanks,” she says sitting down, nervously clearing her suddenly dry throat. She had been thinking about Lexa all morning, and now that she is here with her, she feels almost bashful. Shy. The usual ease between them being artificially disrupted by her mother’s frustrating rules. Nevermind that the rules are standard Starfleet protocol, Clarke is still inclined to hold Abby responsible. If Clarke didn’t have to watch her every move when she is with Lexa, she wouldn’t feel this awkward. She just doesn’t know what she is supposed to do with all of this...energy. Not just the rush of desire, the need to taste Lexa’s lips and skin. No, it’s more. Something is created when the two of them are together, and Clarke is still trying to figure out what to make of it. 

Lexa observes her as she ruminates and fidgets, and clears her throat, ready to redirect her attention. “Are you hungry? I didn’t know what you like, so I had them bring everything,” she says sheepishly. As she is speaking, two servants enter breathing heavily and carrying large covered trays. 

The servants enter without a word and load bowls of porridge, plates of fruit, cheeses, an assortment of fresh pastries, and an array of cooked meats. Clarke’s mouth starts to water as the food’s aroma fills the room. She hadn’t realized that she was so hungry until now.

“Best. Girlfriend. Ever,” she blurts out enthusiastically, eyes wide and digging into the food in front of her, her anxiety forgotten. It doesn’t occur to her that she has said anything unusual until she notices Lexa silently and intensely looking at her, the energy building. When their eyes meet, they both blush beet red, but their eyes do not leave the other. Clarke can feel the love and desire overflowing from her heart and radiating towards Lexa, meeting Lexa’s own passion, and creating a dizzying burst of conductive energy between them. It is intoxicating.  _ Yes Lexa. I am yours.  _ Eyes carnivorous, Lexa looks ready to pounce.

Recognizing that they’re entering into dangerous territory, Lexa tears herself away from the bond. She abruptly stands up and starts resolutely marching back and forth across the room, avoiding eye contact. Clarke, shaken but amused, takes a moment to collect herself. As she hungrily watches Lexa pace, she takes a better look at her surroundings, even as she redirects her appetite to stuffing food into her mouth. 

The room is spartan, but neat. Comfortable. In the center is a king size bed held in a dark brown wooden frame, which is carved to look like vines reaching upward at the posts. The silky maroon sheets are covered by a soft albino fur blanket. In the curved corner across from them in the circular room are several bookcases laden with books and scrolls, with a comfortable cushioned chair nearby. To her right, Clarke can see an open door leading outside onto the adjoining palisade. Clarke considers going outside to check out the view.

“How long are you going to do that?” Clarke asks instead, after finishing her visual tour of the bedroom. She laughs nervously. Even as Clarke asks the question, she knows that the heat between them has far from dissipated and they are only a hair’s breadth away from breaking the rules, the orders, her Captain had set out as a condition for her presence on this mission.

Lexa stops walking and turns to face her, looking at her seriously. “Clarke.” Lexa’s voice is hoarse. She swallows before continuing and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I thought I could have a normal meal with you, without…” She gestures wildly about herself. “This.” Clarke can feel her frustration. “How much longer will your people insist we torture ourselves?” Lexa’s eyes are slightly crazed as she claws back her self control.

“Just another day or two. If I know my mom, she isn’t sleeping.” Clarke sighs. “She thinks the bond is too dangerous. She doesn’t want to lose me. She’ll make sure Raven fixes the transporters, so she can send the treatment directly. Once she can stop the bond from changing me, there won’t be any need for these stupid orders.” 

A sinking feeling is developing in the pit of Lexa’s stomach. “So you’ve chosen to cut off the bond.” She takes steady breaths. The loss of their intimacy would be as heavy a blow as the loss of Clare’s touch. Heavier. 

“I haven’t chosen any such thing!” Clarke answers sharply. “It’s just standard protocol. It’s...we…” Clarke finds that she hasn’t really wanted to consider her mother’s plan in light of the implications for her and Lexa. “It’s temporary,” is all she can finally come up with. “They don’t want me to rush in. It’s to give me time.” She looks down, uncomfortable and dissatisfied with herself and her answer. 

Lexa looks at her levelly. “Clarke, you know how I feel about you. You know what I want.” Her eyes tell Clarke everything. “I think you want it too, but I know you...need time.” Her unwavering eyes bore into her with a look of longing touched with a wretched heartache. After a while, she composes herself and sits down at the table again. “Clarke. If you have questions, ask them. You can talk to me. This isn’t something happening to you alone.” Lexa is being so sincere right now that Clarke just wants to wrap her up in her arms. And she doesn’t want to let go. 

“It’s a lot,” Clarke admits, even as she finds herself falling more deeply in love with Lexa with every breath. “Lexa, you know how much I...how I feel about you.” She desperately wants Lexa to feel her own sincerity. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I just never expected…” She wants to find the right words, so that Lexa can understand. “Lexa, I never thought I would meet someone like you. Someone who would make me question my career in Starfleet. I always thought I would live and die in space, and that my ashes would be spread among the stars. But doing any of that without you, I…,” she stops, a cold shiver running down her spine. 

Lexa says nothing, but simply listens. Listening with her ears as well as her mind and heart. She sets aside the aching in her chest and the simmering fear of losing Clarke again. Of watching her disappear in front of her. She wants to give her full attention to Clarke; she wants to understand. 

Clarke continues. “There is a lot I don’t know. What is the bond exactly? Why me? Why you? What happens after? Like I said. It’s a lot.” She realizes that this is a conversation that is well overdue. She can feel a new openness developing between them. 

“Kane to Lt. Griffin.” Kane’s voice pierces the air.

Clarke clenches her jaw.  _ Every. Single. Time. _ “Griffin, here,” she answers reluctantly.  _ There’s never enough time. _

“Clarke, report to my quarters. We are going to proceed with the Captain’s orders. I believe we are to meet with the Council later this morning, so we don’t have a lot of time.” Lexa nods at this.

“Understood, Sir. I’ll be there shortly.” She gives Lexa a by-now familiar look of apology for cutting their encounter short. The disruption only serving to reinforce that the two of them live in different worlds.

Lexa stands up, resigned. Walking over to her small library, she pulls a heavy book off the shelf. Handing it to Clarke, she says “Take this. It is the story of Commander Eder and his bondmate Onar. The story is very famous among my people. Please, take it.” She hands Clarke the tome. Clarke takes it eagerly, rubbing the cover with her fingers. On the cover is the same seal, a circular image of a root curled on itself into a spiral, as she saw at the transit station on the way to Polis.  _ The crest of the Commander. _ She almost knows what that means, but there is a wall between her and that particular knowledge. But she doesn’t have time to wonder about it. Kane is waiting.

“Thanks,” she says genuinely, impatient to scan and translate the text into her datapad. She grabs a couple of pastries before she leaves, smiling at Lexa appreciatively. She would take the whole tray with her if she thought she could get it through the door gracefully enough.

Lexa laughs as she catches the visual from Clarke’s mind. “I’ll send it down,” she says to Clarke fondly. Clarke nods bashfully before she takes her leave.

Lexa watches as she goes, passionately vowing again and again that she will never let anything happen to Clarke Griffin.

***

The rest of the morning goes as planned. Clarke and Kane work with the Polis herbalists to manufacture a potent antibiotic for the Sangeda. If Clarke admired the Trigeda’s pharmacological knowledge before, she is outright impressed by the Polis herbalists and their lab. She is eager to spend much more time there to create her own catalog. Gustus acts as their guide all morning, shuffling and leading them through the narrow paths between the Citadel and the apothecary. 

Clarke has only twenty minutes to pack her gear for the mission to meet with Andre. She packs her phaser just in case, but refrains from clipping it to her belt, as Gustus had warned them that they were to enter the Council chambers unarmed. Before they leave for the Council, Clarke and Octavia give Gustus their gear to pack with their horses.

Meeting the others at the entrance, the delegation enters together. As they climb to the third floor Council chambers, Wick updates the delegation about the transporters, assuring them that Monty promises that they will be operational later today.

“So if you two get into trouble,” he says, addressing Clarke and Octavia, “you know you can call on him to bail you out of it,” he finishes, grinning. 

“I can handle the Sangeda,” growls Octavia, puffing out her chest.

“Of course, Ensign,” assures Kane. “But it’s always good to understand your advantage in battle, wouldn’t you agree?” Kane has always been good at handling Octavia’s more brash impulses. 

“Aye, Sir,” she answers grudgingly.

“Anyway,” Clarke breaks in, “I don’t think any of it will be necessary - battle or escape, I mean. Andre is reckless, but he isn’t stupid. He seemed genuinely afraid of Lexa when she arrived at his caravan, even though he had the clear numerical advantage. I don’t think he will want to provoke her by going after me again. Especially if he thinks that the Federation will be willing to talk to his people. No, I don’t think we will be in any danger,” Clarke finishes resolutely. 

“Then it’s settled. You’ll leave directly after our present formality.” Kane orders. “Also, before we enter, be forewarned,” he cautions. “The Mother Superior is a talented empath. Guard your emotions.” He looks especially at Clarke as he says this. They all nod back in reply.

When they reach the top of the stairs, Clarke can see Lexa waiting alongside another woman wearing a long black coat, black warpaint around her eyes, and an aloof demeanor. Clarke guesses who she is immediately. 

“Lt. Griffin,” Lexa says formally, bowing her head slightly. Clarke knows that to everyone else, Lexa is the model of stoic self-possession and authority. But she can feel the anticipation underneath. “I would like you to meet my Second, Anya.” 

Anya bows, her face solemn. “Wanheda.” Anya’s cunning brown eyes openly appraise Clarke.

Following Lexa’s example, Clarke keeps her own expression neutral when she returns the gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Anya,” she says. “These are my fellow officers - Commander Kane, Lieutenant Wick, and Ensign Blake.” They all bow to each other in greeting.

Once these formalities are over, Lexa leads them into the Council chambers for more still. The seven Council members are seated on their dais when the party enters. The natural light from the morning sun illuminates the white of the marble so that the walls almost appear to glow. The Council sits in sharp relief in their royal blue robes, with the Mother Superior in the center in her usual amethyst.

Clarke is struck by the immediate reverence she feels towards the Mother Superior, whose mere presence commands her attention. And as Clarke looks upon her, Beatrice regards her impassively, her face as smooth as the marble statues below.

“Council, I greet you,” Lexa recites ceremoniously. “As Heda, I pledge my loyalty to the Order.” She bows low when she is finished, then rising to face the Council again.

“Heda, the Council greets you,” Beatrice returns with equal gravity. “The Council pledges its loyalty to you.” Though they remain seated, each of the Council members bow their heads to Lexa.

“We greet you as well, Lieutenant Clarke Griffin, Wanheda, Worthy One.” There is neither warmth nor antagonism in her voice as Beatrice addresses her. But Clarke can feel her scrutiny. It is beating down on her like a heavy weight, threatening to overpower her. To back her into a corner. But Clarke was raised by an overbearing mother. She pushes back out of habit alone and gives Beatrice a taste of her Griffin obstinance. The more Beatrice’s psychic energy tries to force her into submission, Clarke bullishly stands her ground. It is a silent battle only perceptible to a few.

“I greet you, Mother Superior and members of the Council,” Clarke replies neutrally, resisting the urge to set her jaw in a stubborn scowl. Beatrice continues her relentless appraisal, looking for cracks in Clarke’s undisciplined but stubborn shell. 

“Commander Kane, welcome. It is a pleasure to see you again,” she says formally. She only directs her eyes to Kane as she speaks, as every other sense is still focused on Clarke. She takes advantage of Clarke’s struggle to maintain self-control to pry loose her bravado and delve straight for her fear.

“The Federation is honored by your welcome, Mother Superior,” Kane returns, bowing. He gives Clarke a side glance as Beatrice lays her heart bare.

“In honor of your first visit to Polis, Wanheda,” Beatrice continues, now ignoring Kane. “The Council presents you with this gift.” She gestures, and a servant appears out of nowhere with a padded tray carrying a pair of silver-grey metallic bracers, which are about four inches long and equipped with leather straps. They are finely made and quite exquisite. “I will see that they are delivered safely to your quarters.” She waves the servant away.

Clarke nods. “Thank you, Mother,” she says with genuine gratitude. Clarke understands the value of metal among the Trigeda. It is a softening that Beatrice takes as an invitation. She slips inside Clarke’s emotional fortifications, aiming her focus on Clarke’s lovesick, turbulent heart. Clarke can only stand by as she thoroughly examines her every feeling for Lexa, her every intention. She sees it all - the passion, the devotion, the willingness to throw herself into any danger to protect Lexa. But she also sees her hesitation. She sniffs out her fear as if it were contraband. When she finds it - the avoiding, indecisive unwillingness to accept the true gift she has been offered - Beatrice looks upon her with pity and disgust. The Mother Superior is satisfied with her judgment, and Clarke gets the impression that she has been found wanting. And once again, Clarke finds that her feelings for Lexa have been deemed a flight of fancy. A mere affair. Beatrice pushes the button expertly. Clarke is incensed. Furious. 

Beatrice, pleased with herself, replies “You have done our people a great service, Wanheda. The Trigeda are indebted to you. May you be praised while you walk among us. Before you return to your journey among the stars, of course.” Clarke’s stomach lurches as Beatrice throws the gauntlet down in earnest. 

“Our people look forward to continuing to work together,” Kane interrupts, placing a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, radiating calming energy. 

Lexa, who is surely aware of what is happening, remains passive, deferential towards Beatrice’s flagrant inspection of Clarke. This only provokes Clarke further.

“After our, uh, introduction to the Sangeda yesterday, our Captain has invited a delegation of Sangeda to our talks. We would like them to meet us here in Polis, but that would be at your discretion of course,” he adds. When Beatrice says nothing, Kane continues. “We have made arrangements for Clarke and Octavia to meet with the Sangeda General Andre in a couple of hours. We will bring them medicine and an invitation to peace talks, if that is acceptable.”

“Of course, Commander Kane. The Sangeda are welcome,” Beatrice replies compliantly. 

At this, Lexa finally speaks. “The Sangeda may send a delegation,” she says, turning to face the delegation. “But we will send our own scouts to bring the medicine and carry the invitation. Clarke will not go,” she finishes firmly, looking at Kane severely.

“Lexa,” Clarke interjects. “Heda. I gave Andre my word. I must go. You don’t have to protect me.” Clarke dares Lexa to contradict her. Lexa does not disappoint.

“Wanheda,” Lexa explains, trying to speak patiently, but only managing to intensify the situation. “The courier’s identity doesn’t matter. Oaths mean nothing to the Sangeda. Andre will not keep his word. Why should you be bound by yours? There is no reason to put yourself in danger for such people.” She is speaking passionately now.

Clarke knows Lexa is only trying to protect her. But after her encounter with Beatrice, Lexa’s protectiveness feels smothering. It makes Clarke feel like she doesn’t have confidence in her either. “It must be me, Heda. Andre won’t trust anyone else.”  _ I thought you trusted me _ .

Now it is Lexa’s turn to get angry.  _ Of course I trust you. It is Andre who I don't trust. _ And just as all of their other feelings are magnified together, so too is their fury. 

“Clarke. The decision is final,” Lexa says authoritatively. She will argue no further, particularly not in front of the Council and Clarke’s people. “We will send scouts as the messengers to the Sangeda.” 

“That is a wise decision, Heda,” says Beatrice, pushing the final button masterfully. 

Something in Clarke snaps. “You do not command  _ me _ ,” she states coldly. Succinctly. Clarke is suddenly tired of being bullied. She is also tired of holding herself back. She unleashes the rage bourne out of being exposed. Of being judged unworthy for Lexa. And instead of standing up for her, Lexa only pushes her further. This time, when she locks eyes with Lexa, it is more like locking horns.

_I will let no harm befall you_ _again._ Lexa clings to her oath, gritting her teeth.

When Clarke pushes back, it sends a psychic shockwave throughout the room.  _ You do not command me. _ The sexual frustration between them only feeds the blast, which pulses out like an eruption of fire and want.

Kane is almost knocked to his feet. The Trigeda around him start to sway, but the Council members seem to be affected the worst of all. They are all wearing shocked, dumbfounded expressions. Some of them are retching, while others have fallen out of their seats. Only Beatrice has kept her position unscathed, but she is gripping the armrests of her chair so tightly, Kane can see the whites of her knuckles. Wick and Octavia, unaffected, look around in confusion.

“Come on, Octavia,” Clarke says, oblivious to the telepathic carnage around her. “We have an appointment,” and she exits the chamber haughtily, Octavia following dutifully behind.

“Well, I like her,” Anya smirks when she is gone, breaking the silence.

“You’ve chosen a difficult one this time, Heda,” Beatrice adds, satisfied with her work.

“Gustus,” Lexa orders, ignoring them both. “Follow them.”

“Yes, Heda,” Gustus answers, leaving them all to their individual reflections.

  
  
  
  



	11. The Fallout

> _Eder, Second Heda, Puana Killer,_

_Son of the Order,_

_Had eyes the color of coal._

_No one could ever please those eyes._

_Onar, Warrior, Worthy One,_

_Son of the Rival,_

_Excelled in the hunt,_

_Delighted in a challenge._

_The day Onar came before_

_The coal of Eder’s eyes, he lit a spark._

_From then on, whenever Eder looked upon Onar,_

_His eyes were burning embers, the color of fire._

_-_ From _The Ballad of Eder and Onar_

> ***

Wick, waiting outside the Lyceum, stretches his arms behind him. Kane ordered him to wait here for the Tridega guide who would take him to the Polis black market. But instead of thinking about the mission in front of him, he can’t help but worry about his friend Clarke. Her blowout with the Trigeda Commander seemed like it came out of nowhere. Clarke’s mood changed dramatically during her brief exchange with the Mother Superior. Wick isn’t quite sure what happened between their words of greeting. He just knows it was enough to set Clarke off on a collision course with her new girlfriend. Wick doesn’t envy the obstacles between Clarke and Lexa, but he sees the way they look at each other, so he is rooting for them just the same.

After Clarke left the Council meeting, the room descended into chaos as everyone started to speak at once. Everyone except Lexa and Beatrice, that is. Wick observed the two of them curiously. Lexa was staring intensely at the doorway Clarke had just exited, and the Mother Superior’s eyes were on Lexa the whole time. Lexa’s face was uncharacteristically revealing. Wick had seen that look before - eyes full of exasperation and a jaw set in frustration. Raven had worn that look a time or two after a battle with Clarke Griffin. 

Anya spoke first, after the room began to quiet. “Heda. Do you want me to follow Gustus with my warriors?” Lexa only looked at her, her emotions becoming imperceptible again. Wick was impressed by her quick recovery. 

“If I may,” Commander Kane broke in. “Heda, respectfully. If it assuages your concern, Lt. Griffin and En. Blake are traveling fully armed with phasers. They can defend themselves. And our transporters will be online before they arrive at their rendezvous point,” he added. “You see, we have the ability to travel anywhere on the planet in an instant. If they get into trouble, our people can beam them out of there and the Sangeda could do nothing about it. Please, rest assured. I would never send Clarke and Octavia into harm’s way without an exit plan,” he said emphatically. “And besides, Clarke believes she is safe with Andre, and I trust her judgment,” he finished.

“Thank you Commander Kane,” said Beatrice. “Heda, it is your decision.”

“No,” Lexa answered after a while. “There will be no need to send additional warriors, General Anya.” She said no more, leaving the Council chamber through one of the side doors.

After that, the Council dismissed the Federation delegation, and Commander Kane ordered Wick to wait for his Trigeda contact to take him to the black market. He has been waiting in the square for twenty minutes now.

“Well don’t you stick out like a sore thumb,” says a towheaded preteen in leather trousers and tunic. He had just snuck up on Wick without him realizing. The boy looks at him completely unimpressed. “Come with me. They’ll never talk to me if they see you dressed like that,” he lectures, as if he is only pointing out the obvious. “Didn’t anyone tell you we were going to the Market?” The boy rolls his eyes, and starts to walk off, expecting Wick to follow.

“Wait,” stammers Wick. “What are you talking about? Who are you?” 

“Tom,” he answers insolently. “I’m supposed to take you to the Black Market to find your stolen items.” Tom speaks slowly, as if Wick is the child.

“ _You’re_ my contact?” Wick is incredulous. He suddenly feels as though he and his mission are not being taken seriously, and he is irritated that now he must add babysitting a child to his mission.

Picking up on his disregard, Tom huffs and straightens his back. “If you want anyone in the Market to speak to you, yes Sir, I’ll have to escort you in. No one will trust you enough to talk otherwise.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at Wick impatiently.

“But why you? You’re just a child.” Wick is still very confused. 

Tom smiles proudly. “Because I am the only kid to ever escape the Order’s notice for an entire year by living on the edges of the Market. A cutthroat here and a backstabber there would agree to hide me in exchange for my skill at crossing in and out of the city without notice. When they finally caught me and heard my story, Mother recruited me as a Novitiate herself.” Tom’s eyes blaze with affection when he mentions Beatrice. “So you see. It can only be me.”

Wick considers the boy for a moment, before simply giving up and accepting his fate. “In that case, Tom, I apologize if I insulted your competence,” Wick speaks to Tom as he would speak to any junior officer. Professionally and with respect. “You were saying something about my clothes?” 

Tom takes Wick to one of the outer buildings of the Lyceum plaza. Inside, he rummages through a couple of closets before emerging with a light leather jacket, linen pants, and Sangeda-style desert scarf. Trading his Starfleet uniform for the disguise, Wick clips his combadge inconspicuously inside the jacket and hides his tricorder in the inside coat pocket. 

Thus outfitted, Wick and Tom leave the plaza, Tom leading at a swift pace. Weaving their way through the Polis alleyways, Wick would have completely lost his sense of direction if not for the fact that the Citadel is the highest point in Polis and therefore a reliable reference point. After about twenty minutes, Tom slows down as they approach a nondescript wooden shack near the edge of the city. The shack is among a crowd of similar such structures, a neighborhood which looks coarse in contrast with the elegant marble structures of the inner plaza.

“Come on,” beckons Tom, as he reaches for the doorknob. “Let me do the bartering. They’ll peg you as a mark the minute you open your mouth,” he scoffs arrogantly, in his high prepubescent voice.

The shack’s interior is just as humble as it’s outer appearance would suggest. The shack is one room with a neglected cot in the far corner and a scuffed wooden table across from the door. At the table is a single chair, which is occupied by a very large man. He has multiple scars slashing across his grizzled face, which is partially hidden behind a ledger. There is nothing else in the dingy room. Wick pulls his tricorder from its pocket and, still leaving it under his coat, sneaks a look at its readings. It senses nothing other than what he sees in front of him. No metal. No Federation shuttle parts. Nothing. Wick starts to wonder whether the kid is full of shit after all.

“Been awhile, Tomcat,” says the man behind the ledger.

“Pearl,” Tom answers flatly. “I have a buyer,” he nods towards Wick then produces a bulging sack from his belt. 

“You kept your word, Tomcat. That means something to me. So, I’ll do business with you. Even though you’re with the Order now.” Pearl spits, turning up to face them. Now that Wick can see his face more clearly, he notices the large ring piercing his lower lip. In the center of the ring is a prominent black pearl. 

“Well come on,” Pearl says, getting up. “Help me with this.” Then he and Tom pick up the table and move it next to the bed. Pulling up the floorboards reveals a hatch which leads underground.

When Wick reviews his surroundings at the bottom of a sturdy ladder, he finds that he is in a system of caves lit by a combination of glass sconces lining the walls and the phosphorescent flora lighting up the floor. Pearl leads them through a series of tunnels before they reach a large open cavern that looks like some kind of open market, which they hear before they see. Except it’s underground.

“Don’t stand on ceremony on my account,” says Pearl gruffly before turning back the way he came.

“Come on,” gestures Tom, when Pearl is out of sight. “Let’s look for your stolen goods. I’ll have to ask around a little.”

Wick checks his tricorder to see if it is picking up on a Starfleet signature. He is now getting readings that he hasn’t seen before. Not only does he pick up on their stolen parts, he also picks up on a number of other useful materials. 

“I don’t understand,” Wick says. “My machine didn’t pick any of this up before.” He starts to scan the cave itself. It seems to be masking the signatures of everything within. When Wick tries to use his combadge to report to Kane of this discovery, he finds that the signal would not go through. 

“This way,” he orders Tom, following the signal of an exciting discovery. They enter into the din and chaos of the crowd. When they reach a stall filled with various gadgets and baubles arranged on a table, Wick pays special attention to a set of glass spheres sitting in a cushioned case. The small spheres are filled with a familiar-looking gaseous substance. He double checks his tricorder to be sure. 

“It’s deuterium,” he confirms. It’s exactly what the _Ark_ crew needs to power their ship, albeit in a much larger quantity.

“That isn’t from your ship, Mr. Wick,” Tom whispers, confused. “Those are just ordinary blast balls.”

“Blast balls?” Wick asks densely. 

“If you throw them, they go boom,” Tom says as he simulates an explosion with his arms.

“But where does the blast material come from?” asks Wick urgently. “Is there more of it?”

“I don’t know. They are rare. We will have to trade most of what I have with me for them if you want them. Are they that important?”

“Yes,” answers Wick. “I want them all.” They can come back for the pieces of the _Van Gogh._

***

_The Lyceum_

“Did you have to start testing her right away?” Lexa asks furiously, now that they are finally alone. She is fuming, but desperately trying not to completely lose control. Her voice has a strained, raspy quality. “You couldn’t just say hello first?” 

She paces across the small meditation room, as Beatrice sits serenely in lotus position on a plump yellow cushion on the floor. There are a few lit candles and burning incense in a censor on a small shelf, but the room is otherwise bare. There is one empty cushion on the bare wooden floor next to Beatrice.

“That is not my way,” Beatrice answers simply, without any other explanation. None is necessary, for Lexa knows the Mother Superior. “Sit down, Lexa. Your pacing gets you nowhere.”

Lexa stops and just looks at her, mouth agape. She is in no mood for this old joke of hers. “Mother, please. Your games have done enough.” Lexa is trying not to let her fear for Clarke’s safety consume her, so she directs her anger at Beatrice instead. 

“My games have done nothing but expose everything wrong about this union, Lexa. Never forget that I have my own duty to our people.” Her voice roars with authority as she says this. “If your bond was simply a personal matter, Heda, you know very well I would stay out of it. But it affects all of us. I cannot allow you to follow a path that would lead to the weakening of our people. There is too much at stake. Now more than ever.”

Lexa continues her pacing, scowling. She can’t get the image of Clarke being taken by the Sangeda from her mind. She regrets not sending Anya after her as an escort. She is considering calling her back now.

“Fear cannot defeat fear, Heda,” Beatrice states gently, taking her hand as she passes. “Do not let your mind descend into chaos. That is not how I trained you. Come.” She skillfully pulls Lexa into the cushion next to her. “You are stuck in the mud of your own thoughts. Let’s see if we can’t pull you out,” Beatrice says kindly. She has always been good with unruly children, she thinks to herself. 

“Yes, Mother,” answers Lexa obediently, from the habit of the many years she has trained under Beatrice. Focusing on her breathing, she begins to calm her mind.

“Now reach out to her in the bond. Is she safe?” Beatrice’s alto voice is soothing now.

Lexa sets aside her seething rage and bottomless fear and breathes. “Yes. She is still angry, but she is safe.” Her heart becomes suddenly calm. Then the distant memory hits her like a heavy club. She remembers why she has clung so tightly to Clarke’s safety. _Costia._

“I think about her too sometimes,” says Beatrice softly. She must still her own grief at the memories.

“Forgive me, Mother. I forget that the loss was a great one for you as well.” Lexa’s voice cracks from the lump in her throat.

“Costia was my protegee,” Beatrice replies. “I had hoped that she would take my place when it came time,” she says almost wistfully. She cannot conceal the tinge of sadness from her voice. Lexa knows that when Beatrice says “protegee,” what she means is “daughter.” They had a very special relationship. The Mother Superior went into seclusion for three weeks after Costia’s death, and like Lexa, she has never been the same since. 

“Lexa, listen to me,” Beatrice continues, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. “A bond is a profound connection. But you need to remember, you must never try to possess or claim the other. You cannot try to control everything. That way brings only conflict and pain.” Beatrice pauses so that her words can sink in. “Now,” she says after a few minutes. “Let us return to our meditation.”

Lexa resumes her breathing, settling into the calm of the meditative state. Her heartbeat slows, and she can feel her mind uproot itself from the pressures of the day. Out of the mud.

When she has fully recovered her self-control, Beatrice says one more thing before focusing on her own meditation. “Heda, you must know. I am not convinced that Clarke is worthy of your bond. She has left you once already. That is unforgivable to me,” she says softly. Intensely. “I will continue to test her, but if she fails, I will do everything in my power to make sure she leaves with her ship when the time comes.” She says it plainly, without deception or malice. 

“I know, Mother,” replies Lexa evenly. She had expected nothing less.

***

Clarke and Octavia ride silently together out of Polis to their rendezvous with Andre. The sun is high and beating down on them. Octavia has already taken off her uniform jacket. Clarke notices that she has started wearing braids in her hair in the Trigeda fashion. Gustus, riding silently just behind, does not disturb them. Clarke knew Lexa would send him after she stormed out, so she and Octavia waited for him at the gates and they left the city together. Lexa’s protective gesture didn’t bother her as she had always planned on taking him anyway. _Lexa just had to go and be difficult about it._ Clarke is still fuming.

They are riding at an easy pace down the mountain trail towards the crossroads to the desert. Octavia had given Clarke some space since the Council meeting, understanding intimately the difficulty in grappling with one’s temper. Because of the strength of her Klingon side, she has an understanding of rage born from necessity. It is why she can be completely at ease while Clarke seethes and smoulders. But it has been over half an hour and Octavia can be only so patient.

“Clarke,” she says finally, “what was that back there?” Kane and the Trigeda all looked like they had been hit by the blast from an explosion. Octavia knows that whatever happened was beyond her perception and comprehension. 

“I don’t know,” answers Clarke tersely, looking ahead. She had been so caught up in the moment that she had not fully absorbed the impact of her clash with Lexa on the psychically sensitive in the room. But she did feel the blast. It was exhilarating. A rush that she felt through every part of her body. And even as she stubbornly refuses to set aside her anger at Lexa, her rage has only served to fuel a sexual fantasy of such carnal brutality that she has spent the last ten minutes trying not to fall out of her saddle from dizziness. The fact that she cannot even be mad at Lexa without wanting to bed her is the most infuriating of all. 

When she says no more, Octavia turns to the other member of their party. “Gustus, can _you_ explain what happened back there? Has that ever happened before?” Octavia isn’t ready to let it go, even if Clarke seems totally uninterested. 

“Their bond is growing stronger,” is all Gustus says, resuming his noble silence.

Octavia lets out a loud breath, annoyed by her companions and their resistance to further conversation. But this battle has been lost. So, taking their cue, she too focuses on the path before them, leaving the chattering to the birds.

They are only on the trail for another hour before Clarke stops them. “We’re here,” she says, dismounting and pulling her pack from the saddle. Octavia and Gustus remain mounted, each pulling out their weapons. Gustus looks disappointed when Octavia opts for her phaser, instead of her blade. Octavia’s _bat’leth_ is the greater wonder to the old warrior. Clarke remains unarmed.

“Well, well, well, I must admit, I have just lost a tidy sum betting against you. I won’t make that mistake again.” Andre emerges alone from the trees. “I was certain Lexa would never permit you from coming out here alone.” He looks around as if to confirm that no one else had followed their group. 

As Clarke regards Andre and his words, she has a sudden sense that he is trying to deceive them. She reads him like a book. They are currently surrounded by Andre’s desert warriors, who are hiding in the trees around them. 

“Andre. I thought this was a friendly meeting. I brought the medicine to treat your children as we agreed” As Clarke says this, she hands Andre her pack. “Are you telling me that you mean to prove Lexa right by betraying me?” She nods her head in the direction of the nearest hidden warrior as she speaks. She looks at him sternly in the eye, using him as her psychic whipping boy, taking out all of her displeasure with Lexa out on him.

Andre bashfully rummages through the pack, and finding the medicine, gives her a sly grin, which slowly widens until he has worked himself up to a deep belly laughter. He lets out a piercing whistle before slinging the pack across his shoulder. Clarke can hear the rustling in the trees as his warriors retreat from their position. She knows they are gone.

“I would never allow that, Wanheda,” Andre pronounces dramatically, bowing. “I swear to you henceforth that where an argument concerns me, I will ensure that you always win, Wanheda.” His theatrics break the tension in Clarke, and she laughs out loud at his clownish pomposity. 

“Please forgive me, Wanheda,” Andre laughs along, with faux sincerity. “ I assumed Lexa would never agree to let you out of Polis once she got you there. You must have been very persuasive if she only sent her personal attendant along with you,” he observes. “I expected an ambush, which is why I had my warriors in the trees,” he says, blatantly fibbing. Clarke is astonished at her seeming ability to perceive every half-truth and ploy. She realizes how skillfully Andre is able to mask his lies with the truth. She didn’t see it as clearly before. He is a man as unpredictable as a desert gale.

“I gave you my word,” Clarke replies. “In the Federation, we honor our promises. That is something for you to remember, Brother Andre. And we only deal with those who would honor their promises as well,” she says pointedly. “My commanding officer has spoken with the Mother Superior,” she continues, without letting him interrupt. “She has agreed to let a delegation of Sangeda into the city for a diplomatic exchange.” Clarke can’t help but tense up reflexively when she mentions Beatrice. It is a reaction not lost on Andre.

“So you met the Mother?” Andres eyes grow big, as his interest piques. “What did you think?” He reminds Clarke of the gossips on her ship when he asks this. He is treating Clarke like an old friend again. 

“She’s...formidable,” Clarke answers carefully. Though she has a strong desire to tell off the revered Mother Superior, she also instinctively feels as though she must protect her from the likes of people like Andre. It’s not something that she particularly likes or understands, but she goes with it nonetheless. 

“Hah! That’s one way to put it!” Andre slaps his hands together with a loud smack. “Listen, Clarke. Be careful with that one.” He becomes serious. “She has a way about her. She knows you before you know yourself sometimes. And she is full of secrets,” he confides. “I may have been bending the truth yesterday when I told Lexa that I would tell her the Order’s secrets. The truth is, I couldn’t tell her, even if I wanted to. I couldn’t tell anyone. The Mother...did something to me when I left the Order. Everytime I try to speak of what I know, my brain scrambles and I pass out.” He clenches his jaw in a scowl. Clarke knows he is telling the truth. 

“What is the Order anyway?” Clarke asks. She is still not quite clear on their place in Trigeda society. She thought they might be the religious sect, but that doesn’t seem right. They appear to have their own power, independent of Lexa’s command. 

“They call themselves ‘the keepers of history,’” he answers. “It is a truer description than any other I could give.” Clarke can see that he wants to speak more, but that he has decided to hold his tongue out of caution.

When he says no more, Clarke grows impatient and starts to turn from him, bored of his silence.

“Wanheda,” he finally resumes. “Tell your people to expect the Sandega delegation tomorrow. We would like to make a deal,” he says thoughtfully. Clarke gets the feeling that he has only just decided.

Clarke nods and remounts. At that, the small party returns silently back up the trail to Polis. 

***

When Clarke, Octavia, and Gustus finally return to the Citadel, it is late afternoon and Clarke is exhausted. 

“I will report to Heda now,” announces Gustus, waiting in the landing to see if Clarke will follow him to the seventh floor. She heads off to her own quarters instead. She needs to rest and reset. She had spent the long ride back thinking about her argument with Lexa. She is only now more thoroughly convinced that she was right and Lexa was wrong, and nothing but Lexa’s complete capitulation to that fact will satisfy her.

But she also spent the ride back enjoying the beautiful scenery around her. She still has so much to learn about the flora of this place. She wonders what it was like before the first aliens came here, how their interference may have mutated the plant life. She really needs something to take her mind off of Lexa. She briefly considers downloading a paper on the evolutionary effects of radiation to the plant life of a planet, but decides to report back to her own commander first instead.

After she shares a brief conversation about the latest developments with Kane over the combadge, she takes off her uniform jacket, clipping her combadge to her undershirt. She is looking around, restless, when Raven calls her from the _Ark_. The call lifts her spirits in a way she didn’t know she needed. She had let her anger and willfulness act as diversions from the true source of her agitation. She is worried that the Mother Superior is right. She doesn’t deserve to be with Lexa. 

_Fuck that._

By the time Gustus comes, interrupting their conversation and summoning her to see Lexa, Clarke knows that Raven has masterfully succeeded, as she always does, in drawing her out of her obstinance, without even trying. 

“Tell her I’ll be there soon,” she says to him. He nods and leaves her. 

Clarke takes just a moment to collect herself. Sometimes the problem isn’t stubbornness itself, she thinks, but its target. She wants a fight alright. But, she realizes, her enemy can never be Lexa. They are stronger when they are a team. No, the immediate issue, is the Mother Superior. _Beatrice_ . Beatrice is the obstacle she must overcome. That doesn’t mean that she still isn’t angry that Lexa tried to actually _command_ her, though. It is bad enough that she has her Captain and Kane to deal with. Not Lexa too. She takes a breath and walks up the steps to Lexa’s quarters. This is something they still need to sort out with each other. 

She has no idea what to expect. She has avoided their bond all day. When she enters Lexa’s room, she finds Lexa sitting at the table where they ate breakfast just that morning. She is calm, open. Clarke can feel Lexa inviting her share in their bond. So she unclenches her fist and drops her guard. 

And she is there again. The space in her mind that they share. It’s not that Clarke is no longer angry, but that her anger now has a new perspective. And with that perspective, Lexa’s perspective, the absolutes of anger - the right and the wrong - become meaningless. Lexa knows and accepts that Clarke will never be just one of her subjects. She will not be a prisoner to her fear. But she will also not walk out in anger like that again.

They communicate like this, without words, but with impressions, memories, and the repressed feelings between them. The walls separating them are starting to feel painful, like hunger pangs. Clarke is starving. 

And just like that... 

“Dr. Griffin to Lt. Griffin. Clarke, it's finished.” Abby Griffin’s voice breaks their silence like the smash of a cymbal. A crash of lightning. 

“I’m here,” answers Clarke distractedly. “Is the protein blocker really finished?” Lexa is looking at her intensely now, the bond between them humming.

“Yes, Clarke. I am beaming it to you now. Your no contact orders are officially rescinded. You can tell Lexa she has fulfilled her promise,” Abby adds. “Be careful, Clarke. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she returns, as a hypospray materializes on the table between them. She picks it up and examines it reflectively for a moment.

“I’ll take it tomorrow,” she says finally, her mouth already watering as she scans Lexa’s muscular body slowly. _One more day won’t hurt._

She places the hypospray on the table. _Tomorrow._ Then she stands up and walks over to Lexa, who is waiting for her with anticipation and desire. 

  
  



	12. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead. 
> 
> Yes, I know I'm extra.

_What could Eder do?_

_Onar was in his blood now,_

_He was in his mind._

_In his heart._

_But Onar was a dutiful son._

_He was called and he returned,_

_Taking a piece of Eder and_

_Leaving a piece of himself in return._

_Together, they had conquered the_

_Terrible beasts in the forest._

_Apart, they grew weak,_

_Withered, like picked flowers rotting in the sun._

-From _The Ballad of Eder and Onar_

***

 _Ark_ Camp

What other forces in nature must exist with such interdependence and attraction? What other species exist to make each other function better? All across the galaxy, the flowers of the universe attract birds and insects with their bright colors and fragrant odors because they cannot reproduce without them. Other species have symbiotic bonds too. The Trill and their symbiotes trade knowledge accrued over many lifetimes for the consent of the willing host, who will carry the vulnerable symbiote, merging with them in body and mind. Both are stronger for it. And the Trigeda bond...

Doctor Griffin peers at Clarke’s latest blood sample, beamed over earlier by Commander Kane. Next to it is Lexa’s sample. She has continued to cooperate with Abby research, providing them with a daily sample of her own blood. Now that Clarke has received the treatment, Abby’s intellectual curiosity, rather than the protection of her child, is driving her. That’s what she’s telling herself anyway, not ready to acknowledge the nagging voice of her mother’s intuition spurring her on. She _must_ fully understand what has been happening to Clarke. 

“Doctor, you should get some rest,” says Nurse McIntyre behind her shoulder.

Abby looks up from her microscope and smiles appreciatively. “I will, Harper. I promise.” _Just a little longer._ She considers what she knows about the Trigeda bond. 

Lexa originally carried the _charismatum_ protein, which seems to be a rare genetic characteristic for her people. Without a complete population survey of the Trigeda, Abby can only conjecture on this point. The protein appears to have been in a semi-dormant state before her relationship with Clarke. Abby suspects that Clarke was exposed to the protein during sexual intimacy. But it wasn’t enough just to be exposed to the _charismatum_. If Abby is honest about the data, she must acknowledge that the protein required the mix of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin - the chemical presence of romantic love - in order to trigger Clarke’s mutagenesis. Her daughter is in love with Commander Lexa, and Lexa feels the same. And the consequence is a chemical domino effect, biologically and telepathically linking them to their own form of symbiotic interdependence. Not only has the bond given Clarke new telepathic abilities, but Abby has detected a strengthened immune system, enhanced radiation resistance, and greater cell efficiency. The bond is not hurting Clarke. Just the opposite. 

Abby sighs.

But all of this depends on proximity. Without proximity, the blessings of the bond become a curse. Clarke and Lexa will begin to need each other. They will need to be close. A reality that precludes life as a Starfleet bridge officer for Clarke if the bond becomes permanent. 

_As if ordinary human love wasn’t bad enough_ , she thinks, remembering her own great love, Clarke’s father. Abby remembers feeling, not as though Jake completed her, but that he had become a part of her. So when he died, the part of her that was him left an emptiness in her that is now impossible to fill without him. Her heart still aches with the loss.

 _I will not lose Clarke too,_ she promises herself, relieved that she was able to finish the protein blocker and that Clarke has taken the treatment. Her models suggest that, at this rate, the bond would be permanent in a matter of weeks, and only if they continued to refrain from intimacy. Intimacy would drastically accelerate the process without the blocker. 

But, thankfully, she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore. _Clarke has taken the treatment_ , she repeats to herself. _She’s safe_. For now. 

But that knowledge doesn't comfort Abby enough to let her finally return to her quarters to get some rest. Because she knows, bond or no bond, her daughter loves Lexa. And ordinary human love is bad enough.

***

_The Citadel_

Clarke is shaking. Her greedy eyes are dripping with longing, her gaze locked on Lexa. Taking short, heavy breaths, she feels like she is gasping for air. But the air she wants to breathe is Lexa. The air she _needs_ is Lexa. Even her bones are calling out for Lexa’s touch. She has never known the kind of certainty she feels right now, wanting Lexa _._ The wanting of her touch, of her mind. She takes a step closer.

But she approaches slowly, drawing out the milliseconds between them, her blazing blue eyes revealing her intent. There is electricity in the air, as their bond builds the psychic energy between them.

Lexa is struck, static in her seat as she watches Clarke advance. Clarke’s eyes are dismantling her carefully constructed defenses piece by piece with efficiency and ease. Lexa is too enthralled to stop her. She can feel Clarke’s want as surely as she feels the wafting breeze on her skin. As the psychic lines between them blur, as their minds interlink, Lexa loses the place where she ends and Clarke begins. The boundaries become meaningless. 

The energy continues to build around them, and their eye contact never breaks. Whole universes are created and destroyed in the interval. 

When Clarke finally reaches her, she grabs her hands and pulls her from her seat into a tight embrace. They hold each other close, foreheads pressed together, hands straying across each others’ bodies. Their shoulders heave with each breath, their body temperature rising.

Clarke impulsively tugs at the silky light fabric of Lexa’s shirt. She visualises all of the ways she could tear it off, projecting the images into Lexa’s mind.

“Clarke, are you sure? The longer you wait to take your people’s cure…” but Lexa can’t bring herself to finish. Her heart isn’t in it. She doesn’t want Clarke to take the treatment. She only wants Clarke to be sure. She swallows helplessly. Her throat is dry, and she longs for Clarke to quench her parched lips.

“Just one night together, before…” Clarke whispers, her breath on Lexa’s neck. _I want to feel you with me. I want to feel you when you come._

The hypospray containing the protein blocker looms over them from the table menacingly.

“Why does every night feel like our last?” Lexa asks hoarsey, her stinging desire betraying her. The ache in her heart pierces Clarke, ripping at her from the inside.

“Don’t think about that right now.” _Please_ , she pleads. _I don’t want to waste any more time._ She meets Lexa’s heartache with her own desperate hunger.

Lexa is lost in Clarke’s eyes, and she doesn’t want to be found. _OK_ , she answers, struggling to breath while Clarke’s desire overpowers her. She is already at Clarke’s mercy. She can only hope that she will be kind.

And then Clarke gently kisses her forehead and cheeks. “Do you forgive me?” she asks, still whispering and taking Lexa’s face in her hands. She kisses her nose. A shiver runs down Lexa’s spine.

 _Always,_ Lexa answers, defenseless, floating and adrift between herself and Clarke. “ _I will always forgive you_ .” Lexa, though drunk from the flood of endorphins and flush of _charismatum_ protein running through her blood, nevertheless understands perfectly what is happening. Soon, neither of them will have a choice anymore. She can only hope that Clarke doesn't regret her decision to wait. 

Clarke interrupts her thoughts. _Stop thinking and kiss me._

Lexa obeys. Taking her by the waist, Lexa presses her lips to Clarke’s and drinks deeply. Clarke parts her lips to the kiss and dives head first into the shared mind of their bond. She doesn’t want to miss anything. At first, she is dizzy in Lexa’s passionate embrace, the urgency of her tongue dissolving Clarke into her base elements. She gives herself over. She doesn’t want to be just Clarke right now.

Lexa pauses for one beat of her heart, her eyes full of fire and want as she peers into Clarke. Cushioning Clarke’s head with her left hand, she pushes her into the wall before devouring her with her kiss again. As the want of their kiss rises anew, Lexa raises her right knee and grinds it into Clarke’s pelvis. Lexa squeezes her hip with her free hand as Clarke begins to moan and grind against Lexa’s thigh. Lexa experiences Clarke’s pleasure as her own, even as her own body tingles and hums with rapturous desire. They are two floating embers, swept up in the dance of the fire, crackling as they burn into dust.

Clarke moans again under Lexa’s weight, and Lexa echoes her groans as she bites at her lips and hungrily sucks on her tongue. Soon, her hands are under Clarke’s shirt, clutching her waist and digging her short nails into Clarke’s skin. Clarke slips her own hands under Lexa’s pants and firmly grips a butt cheek in each hand, pulling Lexa more tightly against her body. _Closer_ , she wills, squeezing harder and melting under Lexa’s kiss. Her thigh. Clarke’s clit throbs with heat and pleasure, giving her a tingling feeling all over her body.

Lexa’s skin has become hot to the touch. The air around them is muggy with the steam of their breath. Beads of sweat begin to form at her temples, and she now finds herself both lost and found as her mind merges and body intertwines with Clarke. There is only one choice before her now. She would choose no one else. She takes her fill of Clarke’ s kiss, her devotion enveloping Clarke with the steadiness of her love. Clarke fills herself with it, Lexa answering the call of her heart. The love between them only fuels their desire.

When Clarke realizes that they are still wearing clothes, she snaps herself back to the bounds of her flesh and grudgingly pushes Lexa off of her. She fights the pull only long enough to drive Lexa to the bed, pushing her forward with a look. A wordless mental command. Lexa obeys, hovering around Clarke like a shark ready to eat as she walks backwards, unbuttoning her pants as she goes. Clarke licks her lips as Lexa finishes undressing, her own clothes a distant memory on the floor.

 _You are so beautiful_ , Lexa whispers softly in her mind, taking a moment to gaze adoringly at Clarke’s undressed body. Clarke, her heart lurching every which way in her chest, feels suddenly unsteady on her legs. What would she give for Lexa to never stop looking at her like that? What would she give away? She takes Lexa’s fingers in hers, bringing them to her lips for a kiss.

She wants to say it. To tell Lexa what she has been waiting so patiently to hear. She so badly wants to say it - say she will stay with Lexa. To tell Lexa that she doesn’t want a life without her. But she isn’t ready yet. She wants to be sure. She wants to feel the same certainty tomorrow that she feels in this moment of abandon. So the words must wait. But her heart can have what it wants now. Right now. 

Clarke looks at Lexa intently as she starts to suck her fingers. Clarke takes them eagerly as she puts them in her mouth one by one, gliding them in and out slowly before directing Lexa’s hand towards her dripping pussy. _Can you feel what you do to me?_

Lexa’s breath gets heavier when she feels just how wet Clarke has become under her touch. She will wait no longer. She cannot. She guides Clarke into bed, just as her own knees start to buckle under the weight of her desire. They are a jumble of limbs and minds, Lexa positioning herself on top of a writhing Clarke. She uses her lubricated fingers to tease and to stroke Clarke below as she fervently kisses her lips and neck. She sucks on her ear as she slips her fingers inside her. Clarke gasps at the shock of pleasure, spurring Lexa forward into a steady rhythm as she continues to lick and kiss Clarke’s damp, salty neck. She leans her leg back against Clarke’s clit as she rocks forward, grinding her own clit into Clarke. Clarke tries to contain herself, she really does. But she is so aroused, so close to climax that she can’t hold back the tide as it washes over her. The orgasm hits them both, Lexa’s entire body tingling from the pressure against her. The agonizing days of holding themselves back erupt out of them with the force of a small earthquake. The bookshelves shake.

 _And we have all night_ , Clarke thinks wryly to herself, not even close to being satisfied. She is not on duty again until the morning. There is no one to interrupt them this time.

Their climax does not slow them down. To the contrary - it only serves to whet their appetites, as if an hors d'oeuvre before a multi-course meal. Taking no pause for breath, Clarke pulls Lexa back into another deep kiss, holding her around her neck, and dissolving into their shared desire. 

All one has to do is wish it, and the other responds. They each know what the other craves with precision. Clarke longs for the taste of Lexa’s dripping pussy as she kisses Lexa, imagining Lexa slamming her cunt onto her face, Lexa’s wet warmth dripping all over her mouth. Lexa groans at the image, tearing herself from Clarke’s kiss and fulfilling her wish, now Lexa’s wish too. Except Lexa also wants to taste Clarke, so she positions herself accordingly on top of Clarke, whose mouth is watering with anticipation.

When Lexa’s pussy is finally in her mouth, Clarke finds a kind of bliss. The feeling of being ravenously hungry, but also fed. And fed well. When Lexa starts sucking on her clit, she almost passes out from the euphoria. But the dizzy bliss doesn’t stop her. She focuses on her task with determined dedication, regardless of the overwhelming effectiveness of Lexa’s tongue on her pussy. They share their hearts and minds as they share their bodies. No thoughts pass between them as their higher functions have been supplanted by their need for the other. They are their tongues, their chins, their fingers slipping easily into wet hot crevices. They are their unwavering passion. They are a series of ecstatic shock waves penetrating throughout their bodies, their beings. When Clarke slips a third finger into Lexa’s dripping interior, Lexa is still quivering from her last orgasm. But Clarke persists, fucking her gently but firmly until she comes again, all while Lexa sucks on and fucks her in turn. They are moaning, screaming into each other as the warm cum drips down their faces. And still they are not satisfied. 

Lexa knows what Clarke wants. She knows what she wants most in this moment and Lexa has prepared well for it. Peeling herself off of Clarke, she reaches for a wooden box on the table next to her bed. Clarke, sweating and panting next to her, watches with interest as she pulls out a mauve glass dildo and leather strap. She does not behave like a woman who has already come four or five times already as Lexa straps it on. She writhes in the sheets and rolls on her stomach. Lexa pulls her on all fours and gently glides it into Clarke’s eager cunt from behind. Clarke lets out a low moan as the cool glass warms with the heat of the friction. Her moans elevate in pitch to Lexa’s steady rhythm. She holds her up as she splits Clarke into a million pieces, acutely aware of Clarke’s every reaction to her thrusts. She knows when to slowly build her pace, and when Clarke can handle more. Lexa holds her up while Clarke lets out a long high-pitched scream. She fucks her so thoroughly that Clarke’s orgasm shatters one of her windows with its psychic force.

When they are finally done, when they have squeezed the last ounce of pleasure from each others’ bodies, they both fall onto the bed, exhausted. Lexa unbuckles the strap on and places it onto the table before lying down and pulling Clarke’s head to her breasts. They lie like that contentedly for a long time, neither of them speaking or forming any thoughts. Clarke, nestled safely in Lexa’s arms, wants to stay like this forever. Lexa never wants her to leave. She would swear herself to Clarke right now if Clarke wished. Even if it meant she must defy Beatrice. 

Lexa’s heart would accept no other. Neither would Clarke’s.

***

They doze off for over an hour, tangled up in each other and half under the sheets. Lexa wakes first. It is already starting to get dark outside, and the room is barely lit. Her arm is numb underneath Clarke’s head, but she doesn’t move it. She wants to stay like this for as long as she can. The happiness bubbles and churns, effervescent and light. She allows the joy to fill her heart, steadying her breathing to anchor her heart and mind in the present moment. She is wholly, altogether, quite entirely in love with this alien woman lying in her arms. Clarke Griffin. Lexa lets her contentment overtake her, and all of Polis is blanketed with her bliss.

***

“How long were we sleeping?” Clarke asks sleepily, reflexively pulling her arm across Lexa’s chest and nestling further into her arms. 

Lexa pulls the stray hair from her face and kisses her forehead. “A while,” she answers tenderly. “Are you hungry? We skipped dinner.” She smiles salaciously. 

Clarke burrows into Lexa’s neck. “Do we have to move?” 

“No,” Lexa answers, gratified and amused. She pulls a cord hanging near her bed twice. “Someone will be up with a meal within the hour,” she says, returning her free hand to Clarke’s waist.

“I can’t believe you make them walk all the way up here with those trays,” Clarke returns, teasingly.

“Don’t be silly,” she laughs. “There is a dumbwaiter near the stairs. They only have to walk up one floor with the tray,” she says with mock defensiveness.

Clarke squeezes her more tightly. “Does this mean we have to get dressed?”

“That’s up to you, my love,” Lexa answers quietly, stroking her hair. 

Neither of them move or speak for several minutes, the dusk light casting a quiet spell over them.

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you,” Clarke quotes softly.

“What?”

“It’s the title of an old twentieth century Earth song,” she explains. “Jasper played it for us during one of his themed holoparties. It’s really cheesy, but I liked it. I just remember that lyric. ‘I’ll stop the world and melt with you.’ I thought it was bizarre. It never made sense to me.” She runs her fingers along the patterns of Lexa’s skin. “But I think I know what it means now.” She sinks into Lexa. She feels like time is stopping just for them. Just so that they can have this moment to simply love each other, without rules or restraints. 

“Do you want me to stop the world, Clarke?” Lexa asks earnestly, pulling Clarke up to face her. She takes her hand and interlaces her fingers with Clarke’s. “I will do it.” She looks into her eyes. She wants Clarke to know that she means it.

“You already have,” Clarke answers, as she rests her hand on Lexa’s cheek and kisses her deeply for several minutes. Lexa is helpless under her touch.

After Clarke settles back to rest on her chest, the two of them lie in bed in silence and reflection. Clarke absentmindedly doodles on Lexa’s stomach with her finger, while Lexa plays with her hair.

“My servants will be here with dinner soon,” Lexa says lazily. “You’ll want to get dressed now if you’re feeling modest,” she teases.

Clarke groans. She doesn’t want to move. But she also thinks it would be unbecoming for her as a Starfleet officer to be found in this position, so she reluctantly peels herself from Lexa and gets out of bed.

“There’s an extra robe in my closet,” Lexa says, pointing towards her wardrobe. “Will you throw one of them over here?” 

When Lexa’s servants enter with their food, they find Clarke and Lexa sitting calmly at the table wearing matching robes and looking at each other dreamily. They leave without a word.

Over dinner, the two women talk about the negotiations between their people. Clarke explains the Prime Directive to Lexa in further complexity. She talks about other first contacts she has witnessed or studied, what Lexa could expect to receive in trade. “Don’t bother asking for technology,” she says. “That will be off the table. But perhaps medical knowledge,” she suggests. “And Kane and Jaha will look more kindly upon this agreement if you can come to an understanding with the Sangeda and the other factions on this planet. So don’t underestimate Andre using that to his advantage.”

They talk like this for several hours. Then they make love again before falling into a deep, restful sleep.

***

Clarke wakes before Lexa, shortly after dawn. Accustomed to the artificial lighting of the ship rather than the natural cycle of the planet’s rotation, she hasn’t figured out how to sleep past sunrise. Kissing Lexa on the forehead before she slips out of bed, Clarke gathers her things and gets dressed. She must report to Kane in a couple of hours, and she wants to clean up and take some time to think about her decision before she talks to him. She puts the hypospray with the protein blocker in her pocket before she goes.

When Lexa awakes, minutes after she has left, she notices that the hypospray is conspicuously absent from the table. She steadies her breathing. All she can do is wait.

***

Clarke is weightless, floating in empty space when she emerges from her room on the sixth floor, freshly bathed and glowing with happiness. The hypospray is still unused in her pocket. She knows that Lexa is up and about herself, preparing herself for the talks with the Federation and Sangeda. She knows that their night together has only drawn them closer together. She still doesn’t want to touch her mother’s treatment. _Just another day_ , she tries to justify to herself. _Another night_. She bites her lip as she crosses the hallway to Kane’s quarters.

Clarke is the first to arrive. Kane looks at her sharply when he feels her enter. He notices the hypospray sticking out of her pocket immediately. They look at each other for a moment, Clarke blushing from being caught red-handed.

“What’s that in your pocket, Lt. Griffin?” Kane asks in a prosecutorial tone.

Clarke hands the hypospray to him without a word.

“Is this your mother’s treatment?” he asks. “You haven’t taken it. And by your expression, am I also to understand that you spent the night with her last night?” He starts to pace angrily. Clarke can feel his displeasure with her. His concern.

“I have a right to refuse treatment,” she replies stoically. “I...I just wanted the night with her before…” She looks down, unable to finish.

“And now?” Kane presses. “You’ve had your night. I suppose you now want another.” He turns away from her. “Clarke, this will get no easier than it is now. Right now. Here. Your medical clearance for this mission was dependent on you undergoing this treatment to interrupt your mutagenesis. Take it now.”

Clarke looks at him desperately as she takes the hypospray from him. “Please, Commander. Give me one more day. I’ll take it tomorrow.” But even she doesn’t believe herself.

“No, Lieutenant. I insist you take it now.” He will brook no dissent.

“I have a right to refuse treatment,” she repeats dully instead.

“You are correct, Lt. Griffin,” he answers with disappointment. “That is, if we determine that you are in sound mind in making your decision. That you are not suffering from undue influence,” he adds severely.

She only looks at him coldly in return.

“Go back to your quarters, Lieutenant,” Kane orders. “I will come to see you after I consult with the Doctor and the Captain.”

Clarke returns to her room and waits. She is genuinely scared.

 _What’s wrong?_ Lexa asks anxiously from upstairs a few minutes later.

 _It’s bad,_ Clarke answers, sick with worry.

 _I’m coming down,_ Lexa replies firmly.

Lexa meets Kane when she comes bounding down the stairway from her room.

“What’s going on?” she asks him accusingly.

He sighs in resignation. “This is a Starfleet matter, Commander,” he says with respect. “I must request that you stay out of it.”

“If it concerns Clarke, it concerns me,” she replies, looking him dead in the eye.

Clarke, hearing the conversation outside, opens her door and looks at them both fearfully. She steps out to join them, unwilling to leave Lexa out of this.

Seeing the futility of fighting them, Kane simply turns to Clarke and states, “Lt. Griffin. You are ordered back to the Ark for medical testing. Effective immediately. Kane to En. Green. Are transporters ready?”

“Aye, Sir,” answers Monty over their combadge.

“Lock onto Lt. Griffin and energize on my signal.”

“Wait…” Lexa looks at Clarke with panic in her eyes when she realizes what is about to happen.

“I’m sorry, Commander. These are our orders.” Kane pauses for a moment to give them a moment to say goodbye.

Lexa’s horror hasn’t left her. Clarke is going to disappear again. She remembers with dread the last time Clarke disappeared in front of her.

When Clarke sees the devastation on her face, she rushes to Lexa and kisses her cheek. And she is sure.

“I love you,” she whispers, placing the unused hypospray into her hands. “I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

“Energize,” Kane orders. 

And Clarke is gone.


	13. Absence

_ Polis _

Lexa stares dumbstruck at the hypospray in her hand. She blinks a couple of times, just to be sure that Clarke has indeed disappeared. But her confusion lasts only a breath, a heartbeat. Because then she recalls Clarke’s parting words. She processes the implications of the unused hypospray. And even as she feels cleaved in two by the sudden and swift departure of her bondmate, her beloved, she understands at once that she has won. Clarke has chosen her. She will return.

Her eyes light up with triumph. She glances at the hypospray again, but this time she looks upon it as she would a conquered foe. Then, as she has seen Clarke do many times before, Lexa removes the cartridge containing Abby’s treatment. She gives Kane a wry smile as she drops the vial on the ground and smashes it with her boot, before returning the hypospray to Kane. She knows how the Federation feels about sharing their technology. 

Then, without a word, Lexa leaves Kane, disappearing down the staircase before he has time to react. She gives herself exactly the time it takes for her to descend the Citadel to allow herself to fully savor the brimming happiness flowing out of her soaring heart. She will resume her iron control when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She does not hurry herself.

She wants to go to the Lyceum immediately so that she can inform Beatrice that there is no more uncertainty between her and Clarke. The matter has been resolved. She will try not to gloat. Beatrice can test Clarke all she wants. But regardless of the outcome of her games, Clarke will take her place beside her. There is nothing Beatrice can do.

Lexa takes a moment to reach out to Clarke. She is so far away, back at the  _ Ark _ . But Lexa can still feel her. She is  _ pissed _ . Lexa chuckles, glad not to be the reason for her outrage for once. As long as Clarke is still on her planet, they can never truly be separated. Across great distances, they will feel the other. Yearn for the other. She knows that even though their bond is not quite complete, it is only a matter of time that her body will start to crave Clarke and she will weaken. But that doesn’t matter. She has won. Clarke will be back. The bond will become permanent.

All she must do is wait.

Lexa bounds up the stairs of the Lyceum with determination. She suppresses her smile, though those around her can’t help but feel uplifted by her satisfied, uplifted mood. Lexa’s entrance is like a breath of fresh air for the members of the Order working and studying in the Great Library, even though she merely passes them on her way upward. When she reaches the third floor, she crosses the Council’s public chambers for Beatrice’s private meditation room. Lexa can always find Beatrice. She doesn’t have to wait long for the Mother Superior to sense her presence and come out of her meditative state.

“I see you have settled things between you,” Beatrice says in monotone, looking Lexa up and down. “But it’s curious. I do not sense Wanheda within Polis anymore,” she says perplexed and looking at Lexa intently. She knows something has happened. 

“Her people have sent her back to the ship after she refused their treatment, Mother,” explains Lexa respectfully, but proudly. “She will be back as soon as she can.” Lexa clenches her teeth, grinding down her triumph to merely a gleam in her eyes.

Beatrice frowns, ignoring Lexa’s flirtation with insolence. “This may complicate things with the Sangeda,” she ponders. “But no matter. We will just have to convince the Federation that they are inconsequential.” She will not recognize the union. Clarke has not earned that right. 

“Yes, Mother,” Lexa replies, fully comprehending Beatrice’s slight. “I will leave Kane to you,” she says before bowing and withdrawing, Beatrice continuing her mediation.

***

_ Ark Camp _

When Clarke beams into Transporter Room 1, both the Captain and her mother are waiting for her. Her mother is furious. The Captain just looks tired. Clarke, still recovering from her sudden separation from Lexa, is in no mood for either of them. She looks at Jaha coolly, but saves her fiercest glare for her mother. Abby doesn’t spare Clarke either. 

“Lt. Griffin. You are ordered confined to your quarters while you undergo medical testing. Once I am satisfied that you are of sound mind, we will discuss the ramifications of your decision today.” Jaha looks completely unconcerned one way or the other. “Doctor, I leave her to you.” With that, the Captain exits the transporter room.

Clarke and Abby just look at each other when the Captain leaves. Clarke has made her decision. She will not have her meddle. But Abby won’t lose Clarke so easily. So each does what she does best - she uncompromisingly sets her mind to an impossible goal.

“We’ll start our tests in an hour. Report to your quarters until then,” Abby orders sharply. 

“Aye, Sir,” replies Clarke, answering Abby’s coldness with eyes full of blue fire. They speak no more to each other, though they both have plenty to say. Clarke proudly composes herself as she leaves the transporter bay for her room. Abby watches with half resignation, half outrage. Clarke can sense everything her mother is feeling. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until she continues to feel her mother’s emotional presence even as she walks down the corridor away from her. Her empathic powers are growing beyond just Lexa and the Trigeda.

When she arrives at her quarters, Clarke casts out her telepathic awareness in search of Lexa. She ignores the gaping open hole in her heart. Paradoxically, the deeper she is able to reach within herself, the further she is able to sense outward, all the way to Polis. She steadies her breath and quiets her mind. It only takes minutes for her to find her, also reaching out towards Clarke. They cannot communicate, but she knows that Lexa is thinking about her, and Lexa knows she is thinking of her too. She lets that minimal contact soothe the ache in her chest and the rage in her stomach. 

She has no idea how much time passes when a buzz at her door interrupts her concentration. “Come in,” she sighs, Lexa’s warmth slowly slipping away from her scattered attention. The cold creeps in swiftly. She is frowning and sitting cross-legged in her bed when Ensign Green enters. 

“Hi,” Monty says awkwardly, as he walks in carrying Clarke’s bags from Polis and the gift from Beatrice in its wooden box. “Commander Kane sent your things. I figured you’d want them right away,” he says apologetically, realizing now that he has interrupted her. 

“Thanks, Monty,” Clarke replies, softening her expression. Monty has done nothing to her, so she decides not to direct her irritation at him.

“No, problem,” he says, putting her belongings down onto her desk. “Listen,” he adds sheepishly. “I’m still on duty for a few hours, but if you need to talk later or something...” He blushes. “I’m around.” Then he nods his head goodbye and leaves her. 

Clarke looks over at her things sourly. By sending her belongings back, Kane is signaling that she is officially off the diplomatic mission. She walks over to her desk pouting. She opens the box with her bracers. The gift from Beatrice. Wearing this amount of metal in Trigeda society would bestow her enormous status. She takes off her uniform jacket and tries them on, admiring the way their gleam reminds her of a starship.

There is another buzz at her door. 

“Come,” she says, hastily taking the bracers off of her forearms and placing them on the table.

“Clarke,” exclaims Raven, rushing towards her. “What the hell happened? Are you OK? Monty told me you were here. Why did they send you back so soon?” She is hugging her tightly as she asks. She knows instinctively that something must have gone very wrong. She doesn’t need psychic powers to know that Clarke is hurting, not with their history.

Clarke finally opens up to her and tells her about everything that has been happening. She explains her bond with Lexa and the genetic changes it brings. Raven listens wide-eyed as Clarke explains the telepathic powers developing within her. Clarke explains the terms of her participation on the mission to Polis and her refusal to take Abby’s treatment. She won’t leave Lexa again. 

Raven is speechless, recalling her conversation with Bellamy the day before.  _ I’m starting to wonder whether she will be with us when you finally get this bucket back in space _ , he said. She is suddenly very very sad.

Clarke picks up on her change in mood and pulls her into another hug. She wishes she could reassure her, but all she can do is say “I love her, Raven.” There is nothing more to say. 

“So what now?”

“I don’t know.” Clarke sighs. “Mom’s going to run some tests. I have to report to sickbay soon. She is going to use any excuse they can to force me to take the treatment. But I won’t let them. There is nothing wrong with my mind. This was always my choice to make.” Clarke sets her jaw. 

But Raven can see that her eyes are clear. She accepts her friend’s choice.  _ It’s not like we are getting out of here any time soon, _ she thinks. Her eyes wander over to Clarke’s belongings from Polis strewn across her table. Noticing the glint from the bracers, her curiosity takes control and she walks over to examine them.

“Where did you get these?” Raven asks, pulling out her tricorder. The alloy looks familiar. She looks at the readings with astonishment. “Clarke, they are made out of duranium.”

“What?” Clarke replies. “They were a gift from the Mother Superior. Are you telling me that she gave me a gift made out of materials from our ship?” she asks, incredulous. 

“I don’t think so,” Raven answers. “It’s a different composite. Not what we use. That means that there is or was a natural source on this planet. Finding more of this would go a long way in getting the ship space-worthy again,” she muses. “It’s funny. I ran constant sensor sweeps once we got power up and running. We never even detected duranium here.” She puts her tricorder back on her belt. “This could be related to what Wick found poking around their Black Market.”

Clarke looks at her in confusion. Kane hadn't briefed her on Wick’s mission yesterday. “What did Wick find?” she asks curiously.

“Deuterium,” Raven answers. “Not a lot, but the fact that he found any at all was surprising. Like I said, I scanned this whole area. But there are some caves in the vicinity that our sensors won’t penetrate. For all we know, there is much more, but we just can’t detect it.” She sighs loudly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get everyone home if we can’t power or patch up the ship.” Her shoulders lump with the weight of her responsibility. 

Clarke doesn’t know how to respond. She hasn’t exactly been supportive of Raven’s mission. So she retreats to their familiar banter. “You’re not questioning your own mechanical genius, are you?” She gives Raven a shocked look, putting her hand over her heart, exaggerating everything. 

Raven pulls out of her melancholy to smack Clarke on the arm. “Smart ass.” But she smiles at her even still.

“Shit,” Clarke says when she looks at the clock. “I have to be at sickbay in a couple of minutes. Can you come back later?”

“I’ll try. It may be late.”

“I’ll be here,” Clarke answers. “Just...hanging out.”

Raven nods and they bid each other farewell to go their separate ways. 

When Clarke arrives at sickbay, a little out of breath and embarrassed for being late, Abby is studying a medical chart and trying not to let her temper overtake her. Clarke understands very keenly that there isn’t much she can do that won’t piss her mom off, so she decides not to even try. Better to just let her mother get it out of her system and try not to provoke her further. It is with that last part that Clarke often struggles.

Abby looks at the clock. Clarke is only a couple of minutes late, but she is still pissed by the principle of the matter. Clarke was ordered to report to her, and she showed up late. After disobeying orders time and again when it came to Lexa, Abby can barely recognize her child. She is convinced that Lexa is compelling her somehow, refusing to believe her daughter would be willing to throw everything away for a girl. But she doesn’t want to start a war with her. That wouldn’t help her cause, so she holds her tongue.

“Clarke,” Abby says, as neutrally as possible. She sounds strained instead. “Please lie down on the biobed,” she instructs, forgoing all small talk and pointing where she wants Clarke to go. Clarke obeys, and Abby pulls the circular cluster of sensors over her. They do not speak to each other while Abby does her work. She runs every scan possible on her, analyzing her blood and neurological changes. Then Abby runs every Starfleet psychological test there is on Clarke. Clarke goes along without resistance.

When she is finished, hours later, Abby dismisses Clarke. “Come back tomorrow and we will do this again.”

“Aye, Sir,” answers Clarke, who then returns to her room without further comment. She doesn’t want to give her mother or the Captain any reason to think that she is not in control of herself. If they have any justification, they will administer the treatment, whether she wants it or not. She won’t let that happen. She will play their game. For now. And then she will return to Lexa. Whether they like it or not. 

***

_ Polis _

Kane drums his fingers on the conference room table. At least that is what he is calling it. He is in Lexa’s throne room, on the first floor of the Citadel. She had a large, high, polished wooden slab of a table brought in, but there are no chairs, so he is just milling near it trying not to fidget too much. He is still unsettled from his confrontation with Clarke that morning, so he is taking a few moments before the talks begin to clear his mind. He sent Octavia and Wick back to the Black Market to try to find out more about their sources. The Trigeda had generously agreed to spare no expense in their quest for materials, sending their party with a large supply of currency. 

Kane heard from Gustus that the Sangeda party had been spotted by the scouts along the road to Polis, Andre among them. Kane is nervous about the impact of Clarke’s absence on their talks. Though she clearly had a personal stake in Clarke being in Polis, she was not wrong in her insistence that Clarke’s presence would be crucial to the delegation. Clarke’s kidnapping and subsequent first contact with the Sangeda had put her in the most advantageous position in regards to the unpredictable Andre. 

When Lexa and Beatrice enter the throne room, Kane can immediately perceive the tension between them. Kane isn’t positive about what passed between Clarke and Lexa before Clarke beamed back to the  _ Ark _ , but he can guess. Clarke has decided to go forward with the bond, despite the physiological changes. Changes that would force her to stay behind with Lexa if they ever managed to return to space. But none of that matters to him right now. Clarke is still one of his officers, and he wouldn’t let her make a decision like this unless he is sure that she is not being controlled by Lexa’s telepathic magnetism. It is not unheard of for even experienced Starfleet officers to be psychically manipulated by an alien species. 

“Commander Kane,” Beatrice nods as she approaches. She observes him observing her and Lexa. Unlike their earlier encounters, she does not shut her mind to him. Kane is intrigued. And though he senses no ill intent from her, Beatrice clearly has something up her sleeve. 

“Mother Superior,” Kane says, bowing respectfully. “Commander Lexa.” Lexa nods to him in acknowledgment but nothing more. She is making a valiant effort at suppressing the intensity of her emotions, but Kane can still feel the bittersweet happiness emanating from her and influencing the ambient mood. The look of victory has not left her eyes.

“Sangeda,” announces Gustus, as Andre enters with three companions. Both Lexa and Beatrice radiate distaste when Andre walks in, with his fake smile and appetite for chaos. 

“Brother Andre,” Beatrice says unenthusiastically but without malice. She keeps her full attention now on the Sangeda. Kane, too, scans and evaluates the assortment of nomads before him. All are wearing the customary head and face coverings of the Sangeda, so Kane cannot make out their features. Only Andre has uncovered his face. Though they all have an air of informality and ease, each is on high alert. 

“Mother,” Andre returns, bowing with his usual flair. “You are timeless as always, unlike the grizzled child before you,” he laughs. Kane can almost feel a parental bond between them, strained though it is. Kane wonders just how involved Beatrice is with the children raised by the Order. 

_ They are all mine _ , Beatrice interrupts within his thoughts.  _ They are my children and I am their Mother, each in our own way. Each as they need.  _

Kane is startled, but not surprised by Beatrice’s sudden display of skill. He only wonders why she has chosen this moment to make such an overture of trust. She doesn’t seem like one to reveal her hand. 

Andre takes a moment to scan the room. When he lands on Kane, he approaches him with arms wide, as if preparing to embrace him. Instead, he stops in front of him and bows casually. “You are Federation like Wanheda. I am Andre.” 

“Marcus Kane, Commander of the  _ USS Ark _ . The Federation welcomes you to these negotiations.” Kane returns Andre’s bow.

Andre gives Kane a brief look of confusion. “I don’t mean to offend you Commander, but I assumed Wanheda would be joining us.” He steals a brief glance at Lexa as he says this.

Kane sighs. Just as he thought. But before he can answer Andre, a scout bursts into the chamber in alarm. Lexa and Beatrice turn to her at once.

“Heda,” she bows, out of breath. “Azgeda. Azgeda are approaching.”

“Nia?” Lexa asks with cold rage in her voice.

“Yes, Heda,” the scout answers. “She and Prince Roan will be at the gates within the hour.”

At this, Andre bursts out in a nervous chuckle. Lexa and Beatrice , however, turn to each other with furious resolve, their disagreement forgotten. Kane prepares himself for the unavoidable storm ahead.

***

Raven nervously unrolls the schematics she printed out earlier, inspecting them with her critical eye. She had programmed the computer to substitute the materials for her leg brace to be more appropriate for the limitations of the planet, so she wants to be sure that the design is still sound. She doesn’t want Niylah to think she is a shoddy engineer.  _ Not that it matters what Niylah thinks. _

Raven doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. All she’s doing is fulfilling her end of their bargain. A simple transaction. A jar of resin in exchange for the schematics to her leg brace. But she is embarrassed just the same as she approaches the transporter room. 

“Hey Raven,” greets Monty at his station. He smiles at her, and she thinks he somehow knows she’s going to meet a cute girl. “Where to?” he asks.

“Back to the trading station,” she answers. “I still have to pay for that resin.” She waves the schematics at him and tries to appear casual, bored even. But she feels awkward. Very very awkward.

“Sure,” Monty replies cheerfully. “Does that mean you’ll only be a few minutes? I was going for dinner, but I can wait if you will only be a moment.”

“No,” Raven blurts. She clears her throat. “No, Monty,” she says, recovering. “Go ahead and eat. I may still be awhile. I need to make sure she understands these schematics.” Raven waves the printed paper at him.

“OK,” he shrugs. “I’ll be back in an hour, so just let me know when you’re ready.”

Raven steps onto the transporter platform, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Energizing,” says Monty, as she dematerializes.

Raven reappears just outside of Niylah’s trading post. The late summer sun is low in the sky, and Raven starts to sweat in her uniform. She takes off her jacket with relief and drapes it over her forearm. She wishes Starfleet would issue a lighter jacket for planets like this. 

The scent of Niylah’s stew wafts through the air as she steps inside the post. Raven’s stomach growls. She forgot to eat again. Niylah, who is sitting in her spot behind the counter, looks up when she hears the door. Her face brightens as Raven walks in. Raven forgets her nervousness when she sees Niylah’s open smile.

“I brought the schematics,” she says, grinning despite herself. Her stomach growls again, but this time much more loudly. She turns an intense red.

Niylah laughs. “And your appetite, I see.” She walks over to Raven and ushers her behind the partition separating the storefront and the living quarters. Raven doesn’t complain. The stew really does smell good. Replicated meals are fine, but it is a rare treat for a Starfleet officer to have a genuine home-cooked meal.

Niylah fills a deep bowl with stew and brings it to Raven with a piece of fresh bread. And before Raven knows it, she is digging into the delicious food in front of her.

“Are these for me?” Niylah asks, picking up the schematics.

“Yup,” Raven answers between swallows. “There are some things about my brace that you just won’t be able to recreate with the materials you’ve got, but this one will be sturdy enough. It will definitely help.” She is enthusiastically shoveling the stew into her mouth quickly and efficiently, all the while making varying grunts of satisfaction. Niylah giggles at the sight.

“Your people must work you very hard that you continue to skip your meals,” she teases. “My father and I have an ongoing argument about how you feed yourselves. He says you don’t hunt in the forest, so you must be living on stores. That you will run out soon enough and come knocking on our door for trade. I think you must have a way to make your own food out in space, so you must have a way here too. That you will not become reliant on trade. Tell me. Who is right?” She looks at Raven eagerly, waiting for her answer.

Raven slurps up the rest of her soup. “Tell your father that you are correct.” She leaves it at that, careful not to speak too freely about their technology. 

Niylah doesn’t push. 

“Anyway,” Raven says, changing the subject, “it turns out that when your ship crashes, the only department busier than engineering is the sickbay. I don’t even remember the last time I had free time like this. And I can’t even stay that long since Clarke was ordered back from Polis this morning. I promised I would keep her company tonight.” Raven feels rude confessing that she has to eat and run like this. “I think she could use a friend right now.”

“Wanheda is back with your people?” Niylah asks, startled. “How can that be possible? The stories are already spreading about their bond. We have all felt it, even as far as Tondc. Do your people not approve of their union?” There is a glint of worry in Niylah’s eyes. 

“I don’t think we really understand what the bond is, Niylah,” Raven answers. “It probably doesn’t help that her mother is the Doctor on our ship. Abby means well, but I don’t think she’s willing to accept that Clarke would freely choose to live on your planet instead of with her own people. We don’t really come to this part of space very often.” Raven doesn’t want to admit that this is difficult for her too. 

“Only the Order really understands the bond,” Niylah muses. “But I can tell you that in every story our clan tells about the Hedas of the past, a strong bond always results in a stronger people. We have a saying in my village - a happy Heda is a happy Trigeda.” She laughs at her joke. “But it’s true. When Lexa came to power, she had her bondmate Sister Costia. Her rule was strong, and the Generals obeyed. Then when Costia died, the Generals began to argue, first with each other and then with her. There has been a change in the air since your friend Clarke caught our Lexa’s eye.” Niylah obviously approves of the match. “I haven’t seen so much smiling since Costia was with us.”

“What happened to Costia?” Raven asks, her natural curiosity and concern for Clarke pulling her into the tale.

“Nia,” answers Niylah, scowling. “She is queen of the Azgeda. She was trying to expand her territory into our forest. Lexa fought her at every turn and won. She had Costia kidnapped from Lexa’s war camp. First she tried to get Costia to tell her Lexa and the Order’s secrets, but she failed. Then she tried to use her to force Lexa to concede the territory. When Lexa refused, hoping to rescue Costia instead, Nia ordered Costia’s immediate public execution. And the queen prefers slow, excruciating executions.” Raven can tell that the story is difficult for her. “But Lexa wouldn’t allow Costia to go through that. It is said that they agreed among themselves that Lexa should shoot the arrow. That Costia begged her to do it. I don’t think Lexa wanted to. But when she did, it spooked the Azgeda. They never believed her capable of doing that to her own bondmate. If she was capable of doing that to Costia, what was she capable of doing to them? They have hidden in their mountains ever since in terror, Nia weakened.” Raven can see the animosity in Niylah’s eyes. 

When she finishes the story, Raven doesn’t know what to say. So she stays silent for a moment, absorbing everything she has heard. “Is Clarke in danger, Niylah?”

“We all face danger, Raven,” she answers, after taking a moment to think about the question. “Do you not face danger every day on your ship, exploring space? I don’t think she faces anything more here than there, but I can only imagine what it is like out there.” She looks up wistfully and Raven has forgotten to be worried, so charmed by Niylah’s romanticism. When Niylah catches Raven looking at her, she smiles.

Raven clears her throat. “So, anyway,” she says, growing even redder and glancing at the time, “thank you so much for dinner. I, um,” she is getting embarrassed again. “I can come back tomorrow if you want a consultation about the schematics.” She knows she’s just making excuses, but pathetic as that is, she would rather look foolish than not see Niylah again. 

Niylah gives her an indulgent grin and nods. “I’d like that.”

Raven returns the next evening. They speak enthusiastically about the design over dinner. They do it again the evening after that. Pretty soon, Raven stops trying to find an excuse. And every night, Niylah is waiting for her.

***

_ Polis _

Kane rubs his eyes. He has had a pounding, unrelenting headache for the past four days. Because for four days straight, his negotiations with the Trigeda, Sangeda, and Azgeda have gone nowhere. Worse than nowhere. His Captain had ordered him not to deal exclusively with any of them. That he must find some common ground among them if the Federation was going to open talks about trade and future alliances. This, to Kane, seems an impossible task. He is at a loss as to how to fulfill his Captain’s orders. 

When Nia arrived with her son Roan and a small entourage, Kane could tell the seething animosity from Lexa and Beatrice. They hated her and didn’t care if she knew it. Nia demanded a seat at the negotiations, saying she would not be left out of a friendship with the Federation. She insisted on an audience with Clarke. The one point, in fact, that they all could agree on was to request Clarke's presence in the talks. The only one who has shown any interest at all in dealing with Kane has been Beatrice. The Mother Superior does not participate with the constant squabbling. She seems more interested in observing Kane’s reaction to it all. 

Well, Kane is getting tired. This whole affair is obviously futile without Clarke, and neither the Captain nor the Doctor are prepared to send her back. Per the Doctor's request, Kane has been observing Lexa closely in these days since Clarke has been back on the  _ Ark _ . Though she carries herself with the same stoic determination, Kane can see that she looks paler than usual. He can feel her telepathic influence waning as the days go by and Clarke does not return. He knows from Abby’s reports that Clarke is experiencing a similar decline. That she has not changed her mind to reunite with Lexa.

Kane returns his attention to the argument before him. Andre has slammed the table with his fist, and Roan looks like he is going to attack him at any minute. Kane sighs and leaves the room. He will have no more of this. He can hear them fighting still as he makes his way out of the Citadel to get some fresh air.

A moment later, he realizes that he is not alone. Beatrice has followed him out and is standing silently next to him as he watches the sun start to sink in the horizon.

“You have decided to abandon these talks.” She says it as a statement, not a question. They both know she doesn’t have to ask about these things. 

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Kane says, determined not to take his frustration out on her. “But I don’t see how we can make this work. My Captain isn't interested in getting involved in ancient factional feuds. We ask that you allow us safe harbor in your forest, but I don’t see how we can form an alliance when doing so would shift the balance of power so much. We cannot interfere in such a way.” Kane knows that Beatrice can feel his sincere regrets about the course of the talks. 

She looks him over for a moment, seeming to make a final appraisal. “I believe you are a good man, Commander,” she says finally. “I believe that you are honorable, that your people are who you claim to be. You are explorers who seek to learn and share with other peoples in a grand alliance. You are peaceful people. You are not like the ones who came before.” Beatrice has made a decision.

“Before you leave, Commander, I would request that you meet me in the Lyceum in an hour. Bring your engineer. I believe we can help each other.” 

Kane nods, intrigued. She thinks she has something he wants. 

When Kane and Wick arrive at the Lyceum at the appropriate time, Beatrice is waiting. She leads them through empty hallways hidden behind a door in the back of the first floor. When they reach the end of the hallway, there is another heavy, locked door. Beatrice places her palm on the knob and it lights up - with electric light.

Wick and Kane look at each other.

When the door opens, Beatrice leads them to a sleek elevator, made of metal and fully powered. It starts lurching downward once the door closes behind her.

“We of the Order are the Keepers of History, Commander. You see us as primitive. But our people were great once. The Order remembers this. We keep this history and protect it from being lost.” The elevator continues downward.

Wick, who has pulled out his tricorder, gasps. “Commander, these are the same kind of caves. Just like the Black Market. The readings are off the charts. We detected nothing like this on the _ Ark _ ,” Wick says with awe, trying to make sense of what he is seeing.

When the elevator comes to an abrupt stop, Beatrice leads them further into the caves. “The people who attacked our planet called themselves the Eed,” she explains. “Their appetite for our natural resources was unquenchable. They cared nothing about the devastation they caused. They simply came and took. When we tried to defend our lands, they simply eliminated us. Eventually, my predecessors realized that our military bases deep underground were immune to their scans. Like you, they could not penetrate these caves. So the leaders and scholars among us gathered together and hid until the Eed finished claiming the rest.” They pass vault after vault as they walk through the corridors of the cave.

“The Order has kept this history faithfully. This base is powered by a geothermal generator deep underground. But the technology doesn’t work above. The radiation prevents it. And no one but us knows it is here. So you see Commander Kane, we are not the people you think we are.” She stops before one of the vaults and places her palm again on the door knob. 

When the door opens, Kane gasps. 

Inside is what looks like a prototype spaceship. 

“Commander,” Wick says excitedly, “it has a warp drive. It’s rudimentary, but it would make Zefram Cochrane* proud.” He continues to scan the room. “It’s made of duranium composite and I’m detecting a large store of deuterium. Commander, there’s enough here to power us home.”

Kane looks at Beatrice dumbfounded. “Now do you see?” she asks. “Here is my offer - If you can clear our atmosphere of the radiation which prevents these machines from working, Commander, I will give you whatever you may need to fix your ship and get home.”

Kane and Wick look at her with disbelief. Wick can’t wait to tell Raven the news.

“What’s the catch?” Kane asks, recovering himself.

“You are correct,” she replies. “There is one more thing.” Beatrice looks Kane in the eye as she says it. “You must agree to take Lt. Griffin with you if I demand it. Against her will, if necessary.” She will not break her stare. “If you can agree to that, you may take whatever you need to get your crew home.”

Kane looks at the ship in front of him in silence. Suddenly, he feels hope for the first time in the weeks since the crash. Everyone could go home. 

Beatrice waits patiently for his answer. She already knows what he will do.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Zefram Cochrane invented the first warp drive on earth. First contact between humans and vulcans, and the formation of the Federation, occurred when a passing Vulcan ship encountered his test flight.


	14. Beatrice

_ Polis Citadel _

Lexa paces the room as Nia and Andre bicker around the table, Roan scowling silently in the corner. She lets out an occasional indignant breath in response to their pageantry and lies. None of them had even noticed that Kane and the Mother Superior had left the room. They are too wrapped up in their petty feuding. Lexa wrestles futility with her steadily draining patience. 

“The problem with you Sangeda trash is that you have no concept of honor,” accuses Nia haughtily, nastily pointing her finger directly into Andre’s chest. A tall woman, her imperious attitude makes up for the few inches that Andre has on her. He leans into her jabs with a crazed and crooked smile. This is one instance where Lexa can appreciate his flippant, defiant nature.

“Pfft,” Lexa mutters.  _ As if Nia knows anything about honor. _ Lexa remembers with fury the humiliation Costia endured at Nia’s own hands. The memory is all she needs to lose the last threads of her self-control. She is too weak without Clarke.  Her body craves her nearness like her lungs crave air. But she cannot let them see it. She must always portray strength as Heda, so she summons her vast inner fortitude to conceal the effects of Clarke’s absence. She clenches her jaw as her muscles become tense with the exertion. 

“Do you have something to say, Heda?” Nia asks, suddenly turning to her, trying to provoke Lexa into joining the fray. She meets Lexa’s cold stare with malicious pleasure. Lexa knows that Nia is hiding her own insecurity behind her wall of scorn. She is the one with the most at stake, as her leadership has been under question since Costia’s death. Lexa and Andre are each much more secure in their respective commands. 

Were it not for Beatrice’s training, Lexa would have impaled Nia on her sword the moment she saw her insolently enter Polis. She yearns for Nia’s death now with such intensity that Nia actually steps back. A drop of sweat trickles down Lexa’s neck, and she focuses on the trail of coolness it leaves. She measures her breathing, gathering the rest of her strength.  The room becomes quiet with the tension. 

“This is useless,”Lexa answers finally, emotionlessly.  She will not let them see her break. Then, without another word, she leaves them. She can hear Andre’s snickers and Nia’s spiteful impatience behind her. They could both go fall on their own swords, for all she cares. 

_ An alliance will be impossible without Clarke _ , she thinks darkly as she climbs the stairs to her room. Lexa sighs. Not that she expected much to come of these talks anyway. It was Clarke who believed she could get through to the Sangeda. For Clarke doesn’t just bring with her the strength of the bond, but she brings her own authority as well. She is Wanheda  kom Federation. And Clarke is willing to use that power if it means peace. Lexa must acknowledge that Clarke was right all along. If anything has been clear over these last few days, it is that both Andre and Nia are eager to gain Clarke’s favor. Even knowing that she is bonded to Lexa.  Perhaps even  _ because _ she is bonded to Lexa.  Clarke could very well be the key to forging a clan-wide alliance.

But Lexa’s motivations weren’t for world peace. She had only wanted to show Clarke her city. Her ambitions had been much more modest than Clarke’s. She wanted to give Clarke the chance to learn to love Polis like she loves Polis. But she hadn’t even managed to do that before things had gone to hell.  And now she is gone.

_But still,_ Lexa thinks with satisfaction, _Clarke has chosen to stay. Even if she isn’t here with me now._ _We will have our entire lives to make up for it._

Lexa lets out a long breath.  _ I will not feel sorry for myself.  _ She straightens her back as she continues her climb.  _ Clarke will find a way to come home to me. _ This has been her mantra as her body recalibrates itself without Clarke. If Clarke is away too long, their bond will fade and they will regain their strength. It is what Clarke’s people have wanted all along. To take her before the change is permanent.  She seethes at her powerlessness.

Lexa takes another breath.  _ She will be back. She swore it. _

***

_ Polis Underground _

“But why?” Wick asks angrily, entirely forgetting Beatrice’s offer to help his people get home. His body has become tense, and he takes an abrupt step towards her. “Why force Clarke to leave?” 

Beatrice can see that she has offended him.  _ They are an emotional species _ , she thinks wryly, appraising the officer. _ This one is a romantic _ . She observes him with dispassion.  _ He is fond of her _ .  _ This could be a problem later.  _ Beatrice purses her lips as she weighs her options.

“Lieutenant!” Kane interjects, surprised by Wick’s sudden outburst and breach of decorum. “Watch yourself!”

“But Commander! Why? Why would you agree to such a thing? Why would you do that to Clarke?” Wick asks Kane. He couldn’t stop himself now even if he tried. Beatrice can see that even with all of his training, he cannot contain himself. 

Just like Clarke. 

“And why would you ask such a thing?” he demands, turning again to Beatrice. “Don’t you see how much they care about each other?” She can see that Wick can’t believe what he has heard. He doesn’t understand why Beatrice wants Clarke to leave with their ship. “Why would you keep them apart?” His idealistic, passionate eyes accost Beatrice with confusion and judgment. He has no idea of the weight she carries. 

“Kyle,” Kane says in a soothing voice, projecting calm. He places his hand on Wick’s shoulder. It is just enough to interrupt his flaring emotions. Beatrice admires Kane’s skill as he pacifies his officer. “Please. Let’s hear the Mother Superior out. I’m sure she has a reason for what she asks.” Kane looks at Beatrice thoughtfully. He can feel no malice from her towards Clarke, which makes the situation all the more curious. Beatrice makes no move to conceal herself. 

Beatrice looks Wick up and down with a sober expression. “Do not misunderstand me, Lt. Wick,” she says finally. “I have trained and mentored Lexa since she was a child. I feel sincere personal gratification that her heart is able to love again. But Lexa isn’t just any child to me. She cannot be. She is Heda.” She pauses for a moment of reflection. Kane does not interrupt her thoughts, suspended by his own curiosity and hope for his crew. 

She continues. “Regardless of my feelings, like Heda, I have a duty to our people. As the Mother Superior, I am the guardian of an uninterrupted chain that dates back to the time before the Eed. The history I keep is passed, mind to mind, from one Mother or Father Superior to the next, accumulating with each new generation.” She pauses for a moment, recollecting the years required to receive her knowledge. Kane looks at her with astonishment. “I carry with me the memories and collected wisdom of my forebears. I know what it was like before the Eed. I can see our world as if I lived it myself. I know our terror, how we struggled to survive afterward. And I carry the burden of their collected dreams to restore our people to their rightful place.”

“But what does this have to do with Clarke,” Wick asks, a little lost. 

“Not Clarke, Mr. Wick. This has nothing to do with Clarke, but everything to do with Lexa. As Heda, Lexa is the psychic glue that holds our people together. That is her place as our Commander. The Order remembers. The Heda gathers the people together under one command so that we may survive long enough to be restored.” Beatrice stares deeply into Kane, daring him to put the pieces together.

“But how?” Kane asks finally. “Our doctor has analyzed Lexa’s DNA in comparison with samples from other Trigeda. There is no significant difference accounting for her telepathic ability. What makes you both so different? Why is Lexa the only one who can form this telepathic bond?” Kane believes she will answer his questions. He is right.

“Lexa is not the only Trigeda who is capable of forming a bond,” she answers quietly, after a time. “We all have the ability. Every one of us. Before the Eed, the bond was the basis of our society. But then they destroyed our planet, our ecosystem.” She sighs heavily with the weight of her duty. “Come with me. You must see to understand.” She walks briskly from the starship hanger and leads them further through the caves. 

Wick and Kane follow obediently behind, each propelled by their own curiosity. They pass vault after vault. Some are closed off with heavy metal doors, while others are open and cavernous, some filled with piles of precious materials, others scattered with tables loaded with tools and contraptions. In one cavern, Wick spies computer consoles and various monitors that chirp and beep as they pass.

After walking for about ten minutes, Beatrice finally stops in front of a heavily fortified vault. The vault has a seal that both Kane and Wick have seen before - a crest with an illustration of a root shaped into a spiral. It is a symbol Kane has come to associate with Lexa.

“Before we go further, I must insist that you both give your word that you will not tell of what you see and hear here to anyone other than your Captain and Doctor. Do you agree?” They both nod somberly. Beatrice eyes Wick keenly before continuing. She places her hand on the door handle to open the door. Inside are six large hydroponic chambers, only four of which are in use. Long bright green shoots erupt from the thick, spiral-shaped, dark red roots suspended in the chambers. The bright lights of the room simulate the daylight hours, as the plant was obviously more suited to strong sunlight rather than the gloom of the cavern. 

“This is all that remains of the Blood of the Geda, the Blood Root. It used to grow wild all over the planet. But the radiation interferes with it’s growth. My predecessors went to great lengths to preserve it here.” She pauses for a moment to admire the sight before her. “But we only had six of these hydroponic units, two of which no longer work. And the root can take up to fifty years to mature. Everyone on our planet once took it as children. But now we only have enough to give to a handful of individuals each generation to awaken their latent telepathic ability. So my ancestors made the decision to choose one among us who would Command and one who would Remember. And only those and their apprentices were given the Blood Root. As the one who is tasked with remembering the glory of our people, I must select and train the one who will command us. And because our strength has always come from our unity, we train our Heda to form the bond with another, who then awakens to their own power. Together, their bond stabilizes and inspires our people. Though our powers are latent, we are still a fundamentally empathic species, even without the Blood Root.” Beatrice gives Kane a moment to absorb this new information.

“You see, a Commander and their bondmate must be able to harmonize and control their emotions or the people will respond to their bond with discord. The Order takes great pains in training and testing all who come into contact with the future Heda, any who might form a bond with them. Because it is not enough that the Commander is Worthy. The bondmate must also possess the necessary qualities to lead our people.” 

“But Clarke _ is _ Worthy!” Wick blurts. “Your people said so. They call her Wanheda and bow whenever she enters the room. Hasn’t she already proven herself to your people? Not to mention that she is a Starfleet officer, Ma’am. We don’t let just anyone wear that uniform.” Wick looks at her just as stubbornly as before. Beatrice can see she will need to speak their language in order for them to understand.

“History guides me, Lt. Wick,” Beatrice answers. “I am tasked with preserving the culture of my people. To preserve who we were. To have a bond with another species entirely...This has never been done. And though Clarke may have passed the tests of your people, she has not passed mine. Then there is the matter of her loyalty. Will she honor the traditions of our people or  _ interfere  _ with our culture by trying to make us in your image? The fact of the matter is that your people have rules about this too. You say that your first rule, your Prime Directive, is non-interference. Clarke’s presence among my people is that very interference. No, Mr. Wick, I cannot take that chance. Should your people succeed in clearing our atmosphere, the Order will finally be able to reintroduce the Blood Root into the wild and reestablish our technological advancements. We are closer than ever to our restoration, and Clarke is simply a wild card that I cannot abide. I do not  _ know _ her. I do not  _ trust _ her to lead my people. I do not trust her with my Lexa.” Beatrice’s tone brooks no dissent.

“No, it would be better for all of us if you simply kept her on your ship until it is time for your departure back to space. The withdrawal between them will be difficult, but the bond can still be severed. The worst they will feel is the heartache. But they will both be able to move on. It has only been weeks. Lexa will overcome this just as she overcame the loss of her last bondmate. The important thing is that she now knows that it is possible for her heart to love again.”

“I see,” says Kane, thinking. 

“I offer you your way home, Commander Kane. Do you agree to my terms?”

***

_ Ark Camp _

The past few days have become a blur. Every morning, Clarke wakes up and reports to sickbay, where her mother pokes and prods her mentally and physically all day, then back to her quarters. Alone. If she is lucky, Raven stops by after her dinner with Niylah, or Jasper and Monty come over with jokes, stories, and wine.

And present with her in the uniformity of her days and nights is the constancy of her ache for Lexa. There is only one thought in her mind. One purpose. She must return to Lexa. As each day passes, her need intensifies. She feels like she is caught in the tormenting unreality of a fever dream here among her people. Here on the  _ Ark _ . Her home now feels like a prison. And no one will listen to her.  No one will let her out.

Abby still refuses to believe that Clarke’s decision was made freely. She has subjected Clarke to all manner of neuropsychological testing. Testing her intelligence, her memory, and problem solving -  Abby is running the gamut.  Clarke has gotten the distinct sense that her mother is hoping to find something, anything, she can use as an excuse to administer her treatment severing the bond. And if Clarke won’t agree to take it, Abby will just wait her out, until the bond dissolves on its own through her physical separation from Lexa.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, “ she said to Clarke on the second day of tests. Abby should know by now that Clarke rarely choses the easy way. But Abby is living under her own dreams and nightmares, unwilling to face the cruel reality. Clarke has chosen Lexa. She has chosen to abandon Starfleet. Abandon her family if the time comes.  Clarke knows it must be difficult for her mother, having just lost her husband, Clarke’s father, earlier this year.

Clarke even tried to convince the Captain that her bond with Lexa is an advantage. She pleaded with him to allow her to return to Polis to broker the alliance. But he has been immovable on the subject. He does not trust Clarke as she is now, nearly bonded to Lexa.  Psychically connected to an alien species. The security risk is too great, he told her. He cannot be sure of her loyalty. 

“Who do you serve, Starfleet or Trigeda?” he asked her. 

“Both,” she had answered. But the answer wasn’t good enough. Neither he nor her mother believe Clarke has her own free will, regardless of the evidence. 

“Sharing a mind with another is a profound experience, Lieutenant. How can you be sure that what you are feeling belongs to you?” Jaha asked in his infuriatingly reasonable tone. How could she explain to her Captain how wrong he was? How could she explain to his satisfaction that the choice has always been hers and hers alone? She had even tried to show him by inviting a mind meld. But something went wrong when he attempted to establish the link. Her need for Lexa overpowered Jaha and he could not continue, serving only to convince him further that Clarke is not in her right mind. 

Clarke sighs. She considers just retiring from Starfleet outright.  _ But would they still try to still keep me here against my will?  _ she asks herself. Their desire to protect Clarke’s free will from Lexa’s influence had only served to take away her free will altogether. She feels completely helpless. Jaha hasn’t posted a guard at her door, but she gets the distinct impression that if she violates her home confinement, he will. So if she decides to flee, she will have one chance. 

Her door buzzer interrupts her desperate thoughts of escape. “Yeah, come in” she calls, and Raven and Bellamy enter her quarters.

“Hey Princess,” greets Bellamy casually, not like he would a prisoner in the brig, which she might as well be. Though her power is waning, she can still feel a heightened sense of empathic sensitivity. Bellamy is here as a friend, not as head of security. 

She approaches him and gives him a warm hug. It feels nice to know that she still has friends on board, even as she feels like a captive lab rat. The three of them then joke around for a few minutes, like they used to. 

“I gotta say, Princess. You look like shit,” Bellamy declares after awhile.  He always has a way of putting things directly in their place.

“You don’t know the half of it, Bell,” she says heavily,  not really offended . “I feel worse than that time we all drank too much Saurian brandy.” She sighs. She waves her hands around her room as she exclaims, “This is all so unnecessary.” 

“What exactly did you do to piss everyone off?” Bellamy asks tentatively. He is fuzzy on the details of Clarke’s predicament. His only orders were not to let her leave the camp, and to report if he or his security detail sees her anywhere except sickbay and her quarters. He can understand why she feels like a prisoner. She essentially is one.

Clarke spends the next hour telling Bellamy everything. Well, she leaves out the intimate details, but she is positive he will have no problem filling those in himself. When they are all up to speed, they discuss Clarke’s options for the future. 

“You could just retire,” Raven offers. She doesn’t like it, but it’s an option.

“But if the Doctor determines that she is under some alien influence, they may not listen to anything she says,” explains Bellamy. “Are you under an alien influence, Clarke?” He says it seriously. When she starts to indignantly respond, he just bursts out laughing.

“Look, Princess, maybe your best bet is to just wait it out. When the bond is severed, and you still want to be with Lexa, there is nothing your mother or anyone can say. They will have to let you leave. And it’s not like there is any hurry or anything. I mean, as miraculous as Raven is with a hyperspanner, we will still be marooned here for the foreseeable future. We don’t have any choice but to wait here. So what harm will it do, Clarke? To just wait?” Bellamy is trying to find a compromise. A way for her to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

She just hangs her head and takes a slow, deep breath. “If that’s what it comes down to, I guess you’re right. There’s no hurry.” But she isn’t satisfied. She just misses Lexa so damn much. She reaches out as far as she can. To find Lexa. To feel her. But there is nothing but the silent emptiness taunting her lovesick, foolish heart.

Bellamy and Raven look on with worry. They look at each other, each unsure what they can do to help.

***

_ Polis Underground _

“So to be clear, Mother Superior,” answers Kane slowly. “You are agreeing to share from your stockpile of materials so that we may repair our ship. In exchange, you ask that we restore your atmosphere. And that we take Clarke with us,” he finishes.

“If I demand it, yes. Those are my terms. They are nonnegotiable,” Beatrice states firmly. Kane knows that she means it. “We have further agreed that you will keep Clarke on your ship, and away from Polis. Lexa may try to go to her there,  but I will stop her from leaving Poli s. We must keep them apart for as long as possible so that their bond has time to fade. I may be able to get her to see some sense then.”

“Lt. Wick, do you think we can do it? Clear their atmosphere?” Kane asks, turning to Wick. 

“It will take time, Commander. We will need to study the phenomenon further,” Wick answers.  He is desperate to buy Clarke as much time as possible. He doesn’t think it will take long for the crew to repair the ship once they have the proper materials and power source.

“No need, Mr. Wick,” Beatrice says as she pulls out a data crystal from her pocket. “My people have been studying the radiation from this base for almost 200 years. We have already devised several theories on how to dissipate the radiation and clear the atmosphere. We simply have not had the means until now to actually do it.” She hands Wick the data,  his heart sinking.

“Well then, I guess all that is left is to report to the Captain. I am confident he will agree to your terms, Mother,” Kane says bowing. She can tell that he feels a great heaviness for Clarke. His paternal care touches her. “Lt. Wick, come. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Wait a moment, Commander,” Beatrice interrupts. “Leave your engineer behind. I would like to discuss with him your ship’s needs so that I can have my historians prepare everything for your transport. I will send him back to you once we have an understanding.”

Kane nods without a second thought and a Brother of the Order escorts him out of the caves and back to the Citadel. 

Wick waits awkwardly while Beatrice and his Commander finish their business. He is very uncomfortable, facing a moral crisis. He knows Kane will order him to silence. But he also knows that he should try to warn Clarke. Beatrice watches as he wriggles and squirms throughout their logistics discussion. Wick does his best to guess the sufficient amount of deuterium and duranium the engineering team will need to fully repair the ship for space. Surprisingly, Beatrice seems completely confident in her ability to completely fulfill their needs. 

“One more thing,” she says, as they finish their discussion. “You will say nothing of what you heard here today.”  Her eyes bore into him.

“I..uh…” Wick finds himself totally tongue-tied at her directness. He innately understands that she knows what is in his heart, and it startles him.  So he is caught off-guard when she approaches him and firmly grabs the back of his head,  leveling her gaze so that they are eye to eye. She is much stronger than she appears.

“You will not speak about my agreement with Commander Kane regarding Clarke with anyone on your crew. You will tell not a soul of what I have told you of my people, of Lexa, or of Clarke. Not a Trigeda, a Sangeda, an Azgeda or a Federation crew member. Not to Clarke, not to Lexa. Do you understand me?” She gazes deeply into him, compelling his silence with her mind. Wick is helpless against her. The assault leaves him dazed, stupefied, and dizzy. He doesn’t know how he ends up reunited with the away team, but before he knows what is happening, Kane and Octavia are greeting him, their gear assembled and ready for transport.

“Do you have the information we need, Lt. Wick?” Kane asks him.

“Yes, Sir,” Wick answers rotely.  He feels like a passenger in his own body.

“Kane to Ark,” signals Kane. “Three to beam back.”

“Ready, Commander,” answers Monty’s disembodied voice. 

“Energize.” 

And just like that, Beatrice’s problems disappear in the flash of an eye, the snap of a finger. 

***

_ Ark Camp _

“Well, Lieutenant. We have a lot of work to do. I’ll brief the Captain of our status. It’s late - you two get some rest and be ready to get started first thing in the morning at figuring out how we get this ship back to space,” Kane orders Wick and Octavia. Kane is almost jubilant as he walks towards the Captain’s ready room.

“Aye, Sir,” Wick answers, still a little unsteady. He feels so nauseous that he has to stop to breathe before reaching his quarters. Every time he thinks about telling Clarke or Raven what he knows about Kane’s deal, his dizziness gets worse. 

“Shit,” he thinks, as he crashes into his bed. “Maybe I just need to get some sleep. She just spooked me, that’s all. We’ll sort it out in the morning,” he yawns, trying to rationalize the psychic attack. 

But it isn’t better in the morning. It’s worse. More so as he fights back against Beatrice’s orders. 

He looks so ill that Raven sends him back to his quarters before lunch. “Don’t worry Wick. We got this. You look like you caught a bug or something in Polis. Go see the Doctor and get some rest. Besides, I can’t have you throwing up in Engineering,” she laughs, pushing him out the door.

He is almost at his quarters when he figures it out. When he does, he turns on his heel to a different part of the ship.  He knows what to do .

_ I just hope Monty and Jasper have been working on it in their free time. It wasn’t operational when we left,”  _ he thinks grimly.

When he reaches the holodeck, he is pleased to see that the boys had indeed repaired much of the damage done in the crash. It looks operational.

“Computer, play program Wick, Jane Austen 1,” he orders.

The gridded room flashes at his command. The room around him trembles as a large mansion forms around him, inchoate. 

“Dammit,” Wick curses as the image continues to distort and flash. “Elizabeth, are you there?” Wick makes his way through the house as if it is a house in ruin, not the elegant estate he had come to love as Mr. Darcy.  The holodeck is not as functional as he’d hope, with much still left to repair. 

“I’m here, Dear. What is going on?” Elizabeth Darcy, nee Bennet walks toward him with concern glinting off her holographic eyes.  She looks around warily at her house as it blinks in and out of sight.

“I must tell you something, please. We don’t have a lot of time. I’m not sure how long this program will be able to run with the holodeck in this shape.” When she just looks at him blankly, he continues. “You need to get a message to Raven. Tell her Kane made a deal with Lexa’s people. Kane isn’t going to let Clarke return to Polis or Lexa. They are going to keep her on the ship and force her back with us to space. You have to tell Raven.” Wick's head is beginning to pound ferociously.

“But I don’t understand. Why can’t you tell her, my love?” Elizabeth looks at him troubled by what she is seeing around her as reality shifts and shimmers like a magic spell. 

“Beatrice...did something to me. I can’t tell Raven or anyone else.”

“Then how are you telling me?” she asks, puzzled.

“ It was her words. She compelled me not to speak. But you are not Trigeda, not Federation, not even a person. You are a hologram. You have no soul,” he answers with a wry smile, “Beatrice could not have known about the holodeck. That someone like you could exist.”

She answers his explanation with a blank expression.  She was not programmed to understand such things.

“Anyway, I have to call Raven over now. Remember, when she gets here, you have to tell her…” but he cannot finish. Elizabeth catches him as he passes out and holds his head to the side as he loses his dinner on the floor. She looks at him helplessly as she too begins to flicker in and out of existence.

***

“I’m getting a power surge in the holodeck, Raven,” Monty says, puzzled.

“What trouble have you and Jasper been getting into while I’m not looking, Monty?” Raven asks accusingly.  _ I swear with these two sometimes... _

“It wasn’t us! Promise. We haven’t touched it for two days.” Monty puts his hands up in defense as he answers. 

Raven sighs. First, she is down an engineer with Wick out sick, and now this. “I’ll go see what’s going on. No, you’re not going,” she says pre-emptively, just as Monty is about to offer to see to it himself. “As if I’d trust you anywhere near there,” she adds under her breath.

Raven makes her way hastily to the holodeck, really hoping that she can just shut the whole thing down without having to spend too much time on it. The holoprogram is such a jumble of flashing images that she doesn’t even notice Wick and the holo character on the ground at first.

“Holy shit! Wick!” she says when she finally does see him, cradled by a pretty, pale human in old fashioned Earth clothing. She is about to end the program when the woman speaks.

“Are you Raven?” she asks desperately. “Mr. Darcy asked me to give you a message before he fainted. It seemed important.” She looks scared for him,  as she moves his hair from his face.

“What is it?” Raven asks, as she approaches Wick with her tricorder.  She did not expect to meet Wick’s holo girlfriend today.

“It’s your friend Clarke. She’s in trouble,” says Elizabeth Bennet. Then she tells Raven everything she knows.  Raven listens to her words with shock and dismay.

_ What are we going to do? _


	15. Flight

_ Ark Camp  _

The five of them huddle together in Clarke’s quarters, speaking softly, quietly, even though there is no one to overhear them. By now, news that the Trigeda were resupplying their ship with power and materials had spread throughout the crew. Teams were assigned to the two tasks at hand - one to study and implement the Trigeda plans to restore the atmosphere and one to complete the repairs to the ship. Even Octavia had been assigned menial repair tasks, and Bellamy had seen the size of his security forces shrink as the Captain assigned the bulk of the crew into the task of freeing the landlocked ship from the planet. Raven, it seemed to everyone, was everywhere at once. The general consensus is that the Ark could be spaceworthy within a week.

Niylah shifts in her seat, unaccustomed to the cushy armless chair Clarke had dragged to her coffee table, along with her dining and desk chairs, to accommodate all of her guests. They are all studying the map of the area she brought, spread out on the circular table. Raven and Bellamy had taken great pains to beam her aboard without leaving a trace of their activity in the computer logs. Raven sneaks looks at her while everyone else’s attention is on map.

“Here,” she runs her finger along a winding but direct line to Polis. “This is the old hunting trail. Not even the scouts use it much anymore.” Niylah looks up and blushes when she catches Raven’s eyes on her. They have been playing this game all week. But so far, Raven had made no other outward indications of her interest. Niylah has chosen to honor her restraint. 

“I’m going with you,” Octavia says firmly. “You’ll need the backup,” she adds, but Clarke knows she has her own reasons. The delegation had left abruptly from their mission in Polis, and Octavia has been itching to go back since she arrived at the Ark earlier that day. She had been left much to herself while in Polis, and Clarke knows that she used her time well with Lincoln. 

“I will lead you both.” Niylah agrees. “If we leave by midnight, we should arrive in Polis by morning,” she explains.

“But it took us two days to get there the last time,” Clarke says confused. 

“You traveled with Lexa’s caravan, yes? The carts and heavy horses are much slower and require the road. We are taking a much more direct route. See?” Niylah points to the main road to Polis. “Messengers and scouts can make the trip in four or five hours. But it’s a hard ride. They usually take this path.” She points to another line on the map. “It will take us the whole night to travel, so I recommend that you rest before we go,” she instructs. 

It is still evening, just after everyone’s first shift of their double. Wick and Monty are monitoring Ops and Engineering to make sure that their visitor isn’t detected. Wick’s health recovered once he stopped trying to tell his secret, so they all felt it was best to keep him as far away from this mess as possible. After his episode in the holodeck, Raven thinks he’s been through enough for this mission.

Clarke, Octavia, and Bellamy have started talking among themselves as they work out the details of sneaking Clarke and Octavia out of the Ark camp. So when Raven’s stomach growls, only Niylah is paying enough attention to her to notice. She smiles to herself as she walks over, careful not to make Raven self-conscious.

“So, are you ever going to show me how your people prepare your food and treat  _ me _ to a meal for once?” She asks this playfully, her eyes twinkling in the room’s artificial white light. Raven’s stomach growls again. She laughs nervously and motions for Niylah to follow her to the food replicator mounted to the far wall.

“What would you like?” Raven asks boldly. “Anything you want.” She knows she is overcompensating by trying to show off, but she really is proud of Federation technology. 

“Something from your planet,” Niylah answers immediately, eyes bright. She smiles at Raven so broadly that Raven loses a beat, dumbfounded by her own infatuation. 

“Computer, grakizh with a side of syto beans,” orders Raven to the food replicator. When the brightly-colored dish materializes in the chamber, Niylah’s eyes grow even wider and she claps her hands in delight. Raven can’t help but smile broadly back at Niylah’s glee. 

Niylah’s clapping had briefly drawn the attention of the group, but only Clarke is still watching them. She is giving Raven a good-natured, but goading expression and Raven can only turn red in response. 

_ Hot, _ Clarke mouths from across the room, as Niylah’s back is turned, her attention on the dish before her. 

_ Shut UP _ , Raven mouths back, trying really hard to keep her cool. Her heart is beating a mile a minute. Even though she had visited Niylah every day for almost a week, sharing dinner and conversation with her in her home in the back of the trading post, she had yet to come forward with her attraction. And now the expected prolonged, involuntary residency on this planet has turned into a close and immediate departure. The  _ Ark _ could be gone in days, perhaps weeks at most. Raven and her team had already repaired most of the primary systems. Only the hull damage is preventing their take-off, and even much of that can be contained with shields in space.

Raven isn’t opposed to the casual fling every now and then, and she doesn’t think Niylah is either. But Raven likes Niylah a little too much for that to work.  _ Better to avoid a doomed love then face its consequences, _ she thinks grimly, keeping Clarke in her mind as a cautionary tale. Niylah’s sweet smile is making it very difficult for Raven to maintain that attitude, however. And in the end, all Raven can do is feel like a complete idiot. 

_ She’s so pretty, _ Raven can’t help but wistfully observe, as Niylah digs enthusiastically into the yellow-leafed vegetables before her. All she has to do is walk over to her and touch her. Anywhere. Her hands, the small of her back, her shoulder. A light touch. That is all Niylah has been waiting for, ready to respond. Raven glances at the nape of her neck from the corner of her eye, and she catches Clarke still smirking in her direction. 

Niylah is pretending not to see any of it. Early in their evenings together, she tried to playfully touch her. To reach over and clean a smudge of dirt on Raven’s cheek. To awkwardly hug her goodnight. But every time Niylah approached, Raven stumbled backward. She has consequently given Raven a wide berth to figure out what she wants. It is clear Raven is attracted to her. Raven is just being so clumsy about it. 

Niylah is still eating when the others finalize their plans. Clarke and Octavia will sneak out the same way they did before, at the blind spot during the shift change, and meet Niylah away from the camp. Bellamy will obscure their exit on the ground, while Raven and Monty will monitor things from the Engineering. Raven has already outfitted new combadges for them both that will conceal their biological signatures from the  _ Ark _ ’s sensors. They will not be able to bring any other Federation technology with them or the Ark’s computer will be able use it to track them. This way, they will be invisible to the  _ Ark _ . The Captain will have to resort to cruder means if he wants to find them.

“If that’s it then, I should return to my duties. I’ll stop by Engineering to fill in Monty and pass along the secure communicators,” Bellamy offers. “We should get her home too,” he says facing Niylah. He gives Raven a playful raised eyebrow before he leaves. Octavia follows him out, waving as she goes.

Clarke, Raven, and Niylah look at each other awkwardly for a few moments. Clarke clears her throat before leaving them to pack her things for the journey.

“I would invite you to come back with me. You still haven’t eaten,” Niylah says affectionately. “But I imagine you have so much work to do on your ship. I don’t expect you will be by as often,” she adds with disappointment. She looks down for a moment, but only a moment. She then looks Raven squarely in the eye. Directly. “Would you come home with me if I asked?” Niylah is obviously smitten. She isn’t being subtle. 

Raven swallows.

“Monty to Raven,” Monty calls from their secure network. “I’m ready to beam Niylah back home.”

“Stand by, Monty,” Raven answers raspily, eyes still on Niylah.

To Niylah, she says “I can’t come with you tonight, but…,” she looks at her suddenly devoid of all words, dumbstruck. “...But I want to,” she finally finishes hoarsely. And before she can think any further, she approaches Niylah, closer than she has allowed herself before. 

Raven takes her face in both hands and kisses her. Niylah opens her mouth to the kiss and pulls Raven closer, her arms around her waist. They kiss for some time before they are interrupted by Clarke clearing her throat again.

Raven drunkenly pulls herself away from the kiss and signals Monty.

“Energize,” she orders, holding Niylah’s hand as she dematerializes.

“Shut up, “ she says to Clarke’s snickering. “We have a lot of work to do,” she says firmly, shaking it off. “Just be sure you’re ready by 2330.”

Clarke nods, composing herself. Then they give each other a firm, tearful hug and Raven leaves to resume her duties. Neither know if they will have another goodbye.

***

Clarke arranges her Starfleet-issued technology neatly on her shelf. Her combadge, medical tricorder, and phaser stare back at her, reminding her how weak she is without them. But there is no other choice. Not one she is willing to make, anyway. All of these tools carry the Federation’s signal. Taking them with her would lead her people directly to her location. 

She won’t have another opportunity to escape. All Kane would have to do is look at her to know what she has been planning. So she pushes down the welling feeling of powerlessness and thinks about Lexa. She is trading one life for another, and she can’t bring anything with her from the old life. Nothing except the modified combadge masking her from the sensors. 

Raven’s combadge also prevents the Ark’s transporter from getting a lock on her, so that the Captain will be unable to beam her back to the ship once they find her. But that works both ways. She is also unable to use the transporter to beam to Polis. She has to get there the hard way.

She starts to pace the length of her room. She still has twenty minutes before she is scheduled to rendezvous with Bellamy and Octavia. She looks again at the datapad she left on the table. The one with the letter to her mother. She wishes she could get her to understand. To say goodbye the right way. But they were leaving her with no other choice. 

She walks over to her packed sack to triple check it for the fourth time. She has the clothes and jacket Lexa gave her in Tondc, the bracers Beatrice gave her in Polis, and the staff Lexa gave her at the waystation. She is also bringing her sketch pad and plenty of writing utensils along with a day’s rations, water, and a low tech medkit, just in case. Niylah insisted that their journey would only take the night, but Clarke was kidnapped last time she made the journey to Polis, so she wants to be prepared. She tries not to think about whether the Trigeda will accept her as worthy without her technology.

Her anxiety is so high that she almost jumps when she hears her doorbell. It’s Octavia - right on time. She nods to Clarke wordlessly, her strong jaw clenched, eyes determined. Clarke hands her her pack and they walk silently together down the corridor towards the closet ship exit. They walk as if Octavia is escorting her somewhere, possibly sickbay, where Clarke has been seen undergoing endless testing. At midnight, only security officers are roaming about. Bellamy had scheduled an opening in the rounds for them, so they see no one as they make their way to rendezvous with Bellamy at the camp’s edge.

Octavia whistles out softly as they approach the meeting place. Bellamy responds in kind, leaning against a tree just beyond their sight. Clarke flashes back to the night he caught her sneaking back from seeing Lexa. She’s glad he’s on her side on this one.

“Everything went smoothly, I assume,” he says, looking around to see that they weren’t followed. Clare’s staff and Octavia’s _ bat’leth _ are at his feet. 

“Of course. We’re not amateurs,” Octavia answers, making a younger sibling’s snotty expression, and picking up her weapon.

“I can see that,” Bellamy answers, mocking her, more amused than annoyed. Then he looks at Octavia seriously. “Be careful out there. I’ll cover for you as long as I can.” He hands Clarke her staff.

Clarke takes off her uniform, and puts on the leather pants and jacket that Lexa gave her in Tondc. Then she fastens her bracers onto her forearms, over the jacket, and straps the staff across her back. Once she ties her hair back, she is ready to leave. 

Octavia too takes off her uniform jacket and hands it to Bellamy. She looks at him intently, suddenly sullen. She then gives him such a long, tight bear hug that it quickly becomes awkward between them. 

“Goodbye, Clarke,” he says, turning to her and hugging her warmly. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for here. With Lexa. The ship won’t be the same without you,” he says sincerely. He swallows down the frog in his throat.

Clarke stands on her tip toes and kisses Bellamy on the cheek goodbye. Both of their eyes are glistening as Clarke turns away towards the trail to meet Niylah, Octavia close behind. She too is crying silently.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks finally, once they are well out of earshot from the  _ Ark _ . Their torch fires dance and bob with the breeze. 

“I’m not going back,” Octavia answers softly. “I’m staying too,” she says, her eyes shining with resolve. “I can’t explain it, Clarke. There’s just something about these people. About Lincoln. This is where I belong.” She is staring ahead uncompromising as she speaks, into the darkness.

Clarke is speechless. Neither of them say anything more in the minutes they hike through the woods towards their meeting spot with Niylah. 

Once they reach the designated clearing, Octavia whistles the signal once more. Niylah emerges soon after from the shadows with three horses in tow. Clarke is impressed by the animals. They are lithe creatures, much more slender than the horse that Clarke rode in Lexa’s caravan. 

“These animals know well the trails we are about to take. Just trust their footing. They will not lead you astray. My father trained them to travel these trails reliably in the night.” Niylah hands them each their reins. The horses are remarkably quiet.

The half moon is high as they start their journey through the forest, Niylah leading the way, Octavia taking the rear. Clarke clings tightly to her horse as it swiftly and easily takes the trail before it. 

_ Closer, _ she thinks.  _ I must get closer.  _ Her thoughts are laser-focused, her heart pulling her forward. The  _ charismatum _ , starved and yearning for Lexa’s touch, hums in Clarke’s veins, a sensation that only grows stronger as she rides further into the night.

_ I’m coming, Lexa. _

***

_ Polis Citadel _

Lexa peers restlessly into the moonlit night. She stands immersed at her balcony, staring absentmindedly at the flickering torch lights of Polis. It is several hours past midnight, but she has been unable to sleep. 

She has had a sinking feeling ever since the Federation delegation left Polis. Beatrice took Kane to the Order’s vaults. A place where even she has not been permitted entry. And when Kane returned to the Citadel, Lexa could tell something had changed. Though he went to great pains to shield his emotions from her, he could do nothing to hide the glint of hope in his eyes. But more worrisome than Kane, was Wick. Lexa recognized the dazed look. And when he saw Lexa, the alarm in his face was all Lexa needed to see to confirm her suspicions. 

Beatrice is up to something. 

Lexa makes her decision swiftly. She will have to move with haste. Beatrice has already tried to thrust busy work upon her now that the talks have been abandoned. The Order has requested that Lexa lead their advanced students through training drills all week. Beatrice wants to keep her in Polis, that much is obvious.

She will have to be cunning. Beatrice probably already has spies watching her. She must leave for the _Ark_ camp before first light. _I will throw myself before her mother and her Captain_ , she swears. Lexa realizes with a shudder that Clarke’s promise to return could be useless against the will of her people. _I will beg them, if I must. Surely her mother will relent when she sees how we feel about each other._ Lexa’s mind twists and churns with strategies and possibilities. She will not let herself contemplate the possibility that she could fail.

_ I will not lose you, Clarke.  _ She grits her teeth with the promise.

Lexa calls for her evening servant.

“Bring me Gustus,” she orders the sleepy young man. She regrets summoning Gustus at this hour, but he is the only one she can trust to smuggle her out of Polis behind Beatrice’s network of informants. 

As each hour passes and her preparations and plans are carried out, Lexa’s blood begins to hum with excitement. Then, about an hour before dawn, for the first time in many days, when Lexa feels herself reach out for Clarke, she feels Clarke reaching back.

She stops in her tracks and listens, opening her telepathic senses, weakened by their time apart. It is unmistakable. Clarke is approaching Polis. Somehow, she has found a way to keep her promise, despite Beatrice's machinations and her own people’s resistance. 

Lexa’s eyes burn like fire. Focusing herself, she pinpoints Clarke’s direction. Then she dresses herself for battle and leaves the Citadel under the cover of darkness, riding headlong into the waning night. Stealth be damned.

***

Niylah has been an unsparing guide. She leads them steadily, without rest. The horses seem accustomed to this pace, never losing a graceful step through the narrow, black path. Clarke’s only job is to stay awake and hang on. Hanging on has been a challenge. But staying awake has been easier, especially as they get closer to Polis. Clarke feels like she is coming alive for the first time in days, charged with the chemical anticipation whirling in her blood.

It will be dawn soon, and the group will have to decide whether to turn off upon the main road, possibly exposing themselves to scouts and spies, or to stop and try to get word to Lexa first. Niylah slows their pace as they near the end of the hunting trail. 

Clarke is finally starting to catch her breath when it is suddenly taken away.

“Lexa!” Clarke gasps, feeling her nearing presence like a crash of lightning. The charge of a battery. Clarke can feel their bond tugging at her, urging them closer. She is no longer in control of herself. Abandoning secrecy, she urges her horse forward into a cantor and speeds ahead of her traveling companions.

She almost cries out when she can feel Lexa’s mind, speeding resolutely towards her. Her days of yearning, of swallowing her unrelenting desire, rattle against their prison.  _ Just get to me _ , she pleads into the night, straining to meet Lexa in their shared place.

“Clarke,” Niylah calls softly. “Wait!”

But Clarke doesn’t heed her. In the back of her mind, she remembers Niylah’s warnings. “The path leading to Polis is heavily watched,” she had said. But the warning cannot compete with the  _ charismatum _ . Niylah and Octavia can do nothing but follow.

She is so close now. 

_ Lexa _ , her mind strains with the effort, still regaining her telepathic strength. 

_ Clarke, _ Lexa’s voice rings through their bond. Clarke pushes the horse faster, her heart a mixture of joy and ache.

Then she sees Lexa approaching, charging forward on her own steed. They are in the middle of the road to Polis, the sun just starting to peep over the horizon. So it is in the soft rose-orange glow of the rising sun that they meet, each bringing her mount to an abrupt stop. They look at each other for a moment, silently and out of breath. The air around them starts to crackle with electricity. 

Lexa is the first to dismount. Her flaming eyes never leave Clarke, her desire piercing Clarke through and through with its exacting appetite. When she sees Lexa approach, Clarke too dismounts. They are so close now. Clarke can feel their bond revive completely, the energy between them growing and ready to combust.

They start to run at the same time, sprinting the last steps between them. When they meet, Lexa encloses Clarke in her arms. The psychic energy builds around them and radiates outward, like a strong wind wafting through the leaves of the forest.

“I missed you so much,” whispers Clarke, her eyes streaming with the ache of their separation. Her heart too full to let her say more.

Lexa wipes her cheek with a handkerchief, and looks at her with so much love that Clarke’s ache instantly transforms into a happiness that Clarke can feel in the nucleus of every cell in her body. She feels bigger than herself somehow.

When they pull each other into a deep kiss, the shockwave of their bond almost knocks Niylah off her horse. The telepathic energy rolls outward, in a circle around them until eventually, everyone in Polis surely knows they have been reunited.

But none of that matters to Clarke and Lexa. They melt into each other, clinging onto each other’s body desperately, greedily. Their minds are so lost in the other that the only thought they can form is each other’s name. 

Neither of them hear the other horses approach. Neither of them pay any heed to Niylah and Octavia’s cries of alarm. So when the poisoned darts pierce their skin, they both feel it as a shock, pulling them out of their drunken state. Clarke doesn’t see who attacked them before she passes out from the sedative. 

***

When Clarke wakes, she is in an underground cavern. Dim candle light illuminates the room. She is still groggy from the drug, her sight fuzzy.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Beatrice says sincerely, hovering over her. She wipes Clarke’s forehead with a cool compress. “This could not be helped.” Clarke drifts in and out of consciousness as she speaks. “I normally have years to examine and test my disciples. But we simply have no time for that,” she says as she returns the damp cloth to Clarke’s forehead. “So I will have to make due with what I have.” She sighs heavily with a burden that Clarke does not fully understand. “This will not be without pain. Leadership requires sacrifice. I hope for Lexa’s sake that you have what it takes to survive the trials,” is all Clarke hears before succumbing once again to a deep sleep.

***

Clarke wakes with a start. She is lying on the stony ground of some kind of underground arena, Lexa unconscious next to her. Torches line the walls around her, and dark figures loom in the shadows.

“Clarke,” booms that familiar contralto voice in the darkness beyond. “You must now prove yourself worthy.”

  
  
  
  



	16. Crucible

_ Ark Camp _

Abby taps her foot impatiently, looking at the clock. Clarke is only ten minutes late, but Abby cannot help but get worked up over it. Clarke had been obedient since she’d been back, but only in body. Abby knows where her mind has been.

She lets out one long-suffering breath. Like her daughter, Abby doesn’t respond well to powerlessness. And she has certainly felt powerless when it comes to her daughter ever since they encountered this godforsaken planet. First she was lost on an away mission with no clue as to whether she was alive or dead. And when they were reunited, Clarke’s only thought and desire has been to leave again. To go to  _ her. _ Lexa.

Abby clenches her fists. She cannot, will not, lose her daughter. She already lost her husband. As thoughts of Jake Griffin suddenly overcome her, she has to steady herself by leaning her hands on her desk. She can still see his face as he gasped for air in her dreams.

She shakes her head, willing the building nausea and grief back into her most secure vault. She doesn’t have time for this right now. She doesn’t have the luxury of playing the grieving widow right now. She still has to save her daughter. 

“Doctor Griffin to Lt. Griffin,” Abby calls, tired of waiting any longer. “You are late.”

She pauses, her ear cocked to one side in anticipation of her daughter’s distracted excuse. When none comes, she frowns.

“Computer, locate Lt. Griffin.”

“Lt. Griffin is in her quarters,” answers the computer.

Abby’s stomach sinks. Something is wrong. As the possibilities race through her mind, she grabs her medkit and rushes towards Clarke’s quarters.

_ That girl, _ she thinks, her breath starting to labor with her pace. The thought that Clarke could be gone is not lost on her. Her anxiety has been needling at her ever since Kane returned with the news of their salvation. Abby has been expecting Clarke to make her move now that the ship is preparing to take off. But she naively thought that meant she would try to retire from Starfleet. Abby had been prepared for that possibility. But sneaking out in the middle of the night like a thief?  _ The bond must be driving her more than I thought, _ Abby muses worriedly, as she moves swiftly through the Ark’s corridors. 

When she reaches Clarke’s quarters, she rings her bell in a last desperate hope that she is wrong. That her intuition isn't screaming at her to break down the door. 

“Computer, medical override. Griffin Alpha 2347.” The door opens to the quiet Clarke left behind. Abby searches the room first for an unconscious body. When it’s clear her daughter is gone, she searches for a clue, a note, something. Her shoulders slump when she sees the holopad conspicuously laying on the table. She almost chokes when she sees Clarke’s combadge and other Starfleet issue technology on the shelf next to the table. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before she reads Clarke’s letter.

_ Mom, _

_ I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish you could all respect my choice. I wish we could have a better goodbye. I wish I could tell you how much I love you in person. _

_ But I know about Kane’s deal with Beatrice. I can’t risk being held as a prisoner. I hope you can someday understand. I have to act while I still have the freedom to make my own choice.  _

_ I love her, Mom.  _

_ This is what I want. Please understand.  _

_ Clarke _

“Abby to Commander Kane,” Abby calls, silent tears falling from her eyes. “We need to talk. Meet me in Clarke’s quarters.” Something isn’t right.  _ What deal with Beatrice? _ Abby knows one thing, she is damn well going to get to the bottom of why her daughter felt it necessary to abandon the only family she has ever known, sneaking off in the night. 

***

_ Polis Underground _

“Lexa,” Clarke rasps urgently, her throat parched. She shakes her gently, placing her hand onto Lexa’s, their fingers reflexively intertwining. The touch is soothing, invigorating. 

“What is this?” she angrily asks the figures shrouded in darkness. “Where am I?” She looks around again, but more slowly this time. She is still sore from her midnight ride, but she doesn’t know how much time has passed since she was reunited with Lexa on the road. 

She is underground, lying in the center of a large red circle painted on the stone. Torches line the boundaries. Scattered across the floor are weapons of various types. She can make out the outlines of several robed members of Order standing beyond the torchlight. She assumes Beatrice is the one standing apart from the group. She sees no sign of Octavia or Niylah. 

Lexa groans. Clarke immediately links their minds, reaching instinctively for their familiar intimacy. Lexa’s drugged mind is still foggy, fighting to regain itself. Their time apart has weakened the strength but not the intensity of their connection. Clarke breathes with relief that she was not gone too long. Their families had failed in keeping them apart. But their separation was long enough. Moments that felt like eternities within the eons of one second marched one after the other without Lexa by her side. 

“Good. You’re both awake.” Beatrice’s thundering voice echoes inside the walls of the fighting pit. She towers over the other Trigeda, in both body and spirit as her presence fills the cavern, overwhelming Clarke’s senses. In this moment, Beatrice is the brightest light Clarke has ever seen, radiant in the dimness. She is drawn into her light, as Beatrice overpowers even her bond with Lexa. Clarke is speechless.

Lexa sits up, releasing Clarke’s hand to steady herself enough to stand. Straightening her back, she looks directly at Beatrice. “What is the meaning of this, Mother? Release Clarke at once.” Though weak, her voice still carries the weight of her authority. Lexa looks almost feral as she studies the shadowy forms, daring them to challenge her.

“I’m afraid I cannot, Heda. You both leave me with no other choice.” She sighs with genuine regret. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. That your people would keep their word and return you to the stars where you belong. But now,” she shakes her head, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

A moment passes and Clarke wonders whether she could perhaps reason with the Mother Superior. Beatrice seems to bear no personal hostility towards her. No, this is something else entirely. Something Trigeda culture demands. 

“Clarke Griffin, Wanheda kom Federation,” Beatrice states officially, suddenly and frighteningly distant. Clarke’s hopes dissipate like a cloud of cold breath. “You have a choice. Go home to your people or face my Trials.”

Clarke turns to Lexa, searching her eyes with a question. This isn’t her choice alone.

_ I love you, _ Lexa’s eyes answer.  _ To the end of my days. _

They have an understanding. 

Clarke turns to Beatrice, fortified with the confidence and clarity of a woman who knows precisely what she wants. With the boldness of a woman when what she wants is within her grasp. She intends to take it. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replies defiantly, eyes shining brightly. She pushes back against Beatrice’s awesome presence, clinging stubbornly to the thread of her link with Lexa for grounding. The two of them hold Beatrice at bay. 

“Very well,” returns Beatrice with resignation, taking Clarke’s answer as consent to continue. “We will proceed with the Trial of Blood.” Clarke can feel the disquiet permeate from the other observers at her declaration. Lexa’s tension, too, begins to rise.

“Enough, Mother,” interrupts Lexa. “I will fight on Clarke’s behalf. Stop this nonsense,” Lexa roars, her eyes noting the position of every weapon and every escape. Clarke knows that she is still recovering from the poisoned darts, that she would fight and die anyway for Clarke’s sake. 

Clarke cannot let her do that. 

“No,” she interjects, before Beatrice can answer. “Lexa, no.” She takes her hands gently in her own. “Look at me,” she says when Lexa bows her head, avoiding eye contact.  _ Lexa _ , she says softly, telepathically, when Lexa meets her gaze.  _ I will never let you fight alone. Never. Not for me. Not for anything. _

When Lexa still resists, Clarke shifts her tactic. She will not lose her temper. She didn’t come all this way, didn’t abandon her own people, only to leave Lexa alone again. No.

“Lexa,” she says calmly, but immovably. “I will meet the demands of your people. You cannot protect me like this. You can’t always try to shield me from danger. If we do this, we do it together.” She looks at Lexa, jaw set and eyes alight. 

Lexa regards her for a moment, then nods in acceptance. Clarke can feel Lexa’s deep fear and the self control it took her to overcome it. Clarke loves her more for it.

“Then it is agreed,” Beatrice continues, stating the obvious. “You will face the Trial together.” She turns to the figure standing next to her, who then departs into a nearby corridor. When they return, they are leading two hooded prisoners towards the arena. When the guard pulls back the hoods, Clarke can see that Octavia and Lexa’s friend Anya have also been pulled into her trial. 

“Mother, no,” Lexa begs. Her shoulders slump, and Clarke can feel her rising panic, even through the haze of the lingering effects of the poison. 

“You of all people know it cannot be any other way,” Beatrice answers sternly. “I take no pleasure from this, Heda. But you have both made your choice.” As she says this, her attendant places a raised platform with a billowy cushion built into the top in front of her. She pulls up the back of her robes as she seats herself cross-legged onto the cushion.

“Quick, Clarke,” whispers Lexa urgently. “Arm yourself.” Following her own command, Lexa reaches for a sword and shield. Clarke scans the arena floor and quickly finds what she is looking for. After picking up the staff, she rejoins Lexa in the center of the circle.

“What’s happening,” she asks Lexa, looking cautiously towards Beatrice and the captives next to her.

Before Lexa can answer her, Anya falls to her knees, squeezing her hands against her head as if to muffle a deafening noise. Octavia too, grabs her head. She looks upwards and lets out a piercing Klingon roar, baring her teeth as if to challenge the gods above. 

“We must fight. And survive,” Lexa replies finally. She looks at Clarke as though she will try to argue once more, but holds her tongue instead. 

Clarke takes her hand and kisses it.  _ I love you. _

The hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck stand on end when Octavia turns her rage from the heavens onto Lexa. She is still snarling when someone in the shadows throws her  _ bat’leth _ at her feet and releases her from her bindings.

“Oh, crap,” exclaims Clarke, as Octavia picks up her weapon and charges at Lexa.

“Don’t worry about me” Lexa huffs, blocking Octavia's wild blow with her shield. She nods towards Anya, who has picked up a heavy club and is walking purposefully, dangerously, towards them, eyes honed on Clarke. “Listen, Beatrice controls them now, but controlling both of them will be difficult for her to maintain,” Lexa says quickly between her breaths. “They will be weaker because of it. Use that to your advantage.” 

Lexa dodges Octavia’s next blow by ducking, and then sweeps her legs behind Octavia’s knees. The move doesn’t topple her, but Octavia does stagger for a moment. Lexa uses the extra moment to stand upright again, and retreat into a defensive posture. Clarke too, prepares to defend herself against Anya’s more deliberate approach.

“Go for her left ankle, Clarke. It’s an old injury.” Lexa grunts again as she parries Octavia’s attacks. She is obviously holding back offensively against Clarke’s friend, even as she has not fully recovered from the sleeping darts herself. 

Clarke can no longer pay attention to Lexa’s battle, though, as Anya is now grinning maniacally before her, her spiked club ready strike. She raises her staff to block the assault. A chip of wood flies from her staff as the club hits it, sending a reverberating shock down Clarke’s spine, until the ground absorbs its force through her feet. Clarke can barely manage to deflect the onslaught of blows, and she is grateful for her practice with Lexa last week. A time that feels like a lifetime ago.

But Clarke’s lack of experience shows. Anya bypasses her defenses once and then again, first a blow to her abdomen, which takes the breath out of her. Later, Anya succeeds with a glancing across the side of Clarke’s head, that still hits her with enough force to open a large bloody gash above her right ear.

Their two shuffles have kicked up the fine layer of white dust coating the ground, and Clarke breathes it in as she struggles against Anya’s relentless attacks. She can feel it settle on her skin and hair, mixing with the blood running down the side of her face and getting into her eyes. This time, instead of striking her, Anya changes her tactics, bearing her weight upon Clarke and trying to overpower her with brute strength. Clarke takes a step back under the weight of her, her vision blurred.

Then, remembering Lexa’s advice, Clarke takes advantage of Anya’s close range. Shifting her weight to her back leg, Clarke brings her front leg up and stomps down - hard - on Anya’s weak ankle. Anya buckles and lets out a wailing howl. Pressing forward, Clarke jabs her in the kidneys with the butt of her staff, then brings it up and wide, and strikes Anya in the back of the head. 

Clarke leans over to check Anya’s vitals before she brings her attention back to Lexa and her struggle with Octavia. In the haze of the dust cloud, Clarke can barely make out their battle. Lexa, circling around Octavia as she rages, looks like a hunter ready to take down her wounded prey. She has only her sword now.

Octavia is still howling when she brings her bat’leth down once again onto Lexa’s head. Lexa parries, sweat and dust creating an uneven, white coating on her skin. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. Using the leverage of her sword, she manages to disarm Octavia. But the Klingon in Octavia is not deterred. Without missing a beat, she headbutts Lexa and punches her forcefully in the throat. Lexa staggers backwards and drops her weapon. In an instant, Octavia has Lexa on the ground and begins to punch her mercilessly in the head.

Clarke’s eyes widen with horror as she realizes that Octavia has overpowered Lexa. The strength of Octavia’s blows trigger dread in Clarke. She swallows it down. There is only one course of action.

As Clarke makes her way towards Octavia and Lexa, a gleam of metal catches the corner of her eye. It is some kind of ancient energy weapon.  _ They wouldn’t have left it here if it didn’t work _ , she thinks grimly. She prays that it is set to stun, if it even has a stun setting at all. Clarke forces down the next wave of horror, rising like bile from her stomach. She rushes towards the weapon, pointing it unwaveringly towards her friend.

Octavia has started choking Lexa. The sound of Lexa’s gasping throws Clarke outside of herself. She can almost feel Octavia’s hands as if on her own throat. Steadily, coldly, she fires at Octavia, hitting her squarely in the chest. Clarke can smell her burning flesh as she cries out and collapses on top of Lexa.

_ What have I done?  _

Before her thoughts can turn to the gravity of her actions, Clarke’s mind is overcome with a shrill, debilitating ringing. Her world goes black. 

***

_ Polis Citadel _

The sun isn’t even yet at its zenith, and Gustus’s day is already going badly. He is alone with his Federation guests in Lexa’s throne room, tasked with receiving all messages on behalf of his Commander.

“I will see my daughter, right now,” Abby shouts, getting into his personal space, even as she must look up to make eye contact. Gustus smiles inwardly at her ferocity. He has seen it before.

“Wanheda is not available, Doctor. She has agreed to undergo Mother’s trials. She will prove herself Worthy to be Lexa’s bondmate, I have no doubt, but no one must disturb them. It is forbidden.” Gustus looks at Abby compassionately, but firm in his resolve. 

“Marcus, what is this about?” Abby asks Kane. “What are they doing to Clarke?”

Instead of answering Abby, Kane asks Gustus, “May we speak with the Commander?”

“No,” replies Gustus, without further explanation. “You may wait here,” he continues, “but this could take some time. Days perhaps. But your people have their own preparations to make, do you not? You wouldn’t want to wear out your welcome now that you are free to return home,” he says meaningfully. “And do not concern yourselves with Clarke. She is ours now. The Mother Superior says to tell you we will return her if she fails,” he adds, looking meaningfully at Kane.

Abby glares at him with the intensity of ten supernovas. “How dare you? And how do we even know she’s here? Our sensors haven’t been able to pick up her or Octavia’s signals.” Abby is a terrier pulling at a branch. She will not let go. “Where is my daughter?!”

“Come, Doctor. Let’s return to the ship. I’ll explain everything when we get back,” Marcus says, trying to console her. Turning to Gustus, he says,” Here,” and he pulls his combadge off and hands it to Gustus. “When the trials are complete, please report to me. Just press here and say my name. I will hear your message.” Kane shows him how to operate the communicator. 

Gustus nods in agreement and the Federation officers return reluctantly to their ship, Kane holding Abby firmly as they dematerialize.

***

_ Polis Underground _

Clarke instinctively reaches for the back of her head as she regains consciousness, but she can’t move her arms. As panic begins to rise, she steadies her breathing and takes stock of her environment, letting her senses slowly regain themselves. Her wounds are bandaged, and she has a splitting headache. The cold tingling coming from her arms makes her realize that her limbs are numb and still asleep. She is not bound. Beatrice is sitting over her bedside with a cold compress, gently pressing it against Clarke’s forehead and cheeks.

“Lexa!” Clarke exclaims, as the memories of the Trial of Blood come flashing back. “Octavia…”

“Lexa is resting in the next room. She will recover. As for your friend,” Beatrice pauses and places the cloth compress on a small plate on the bedside table. She starts to vigorously massage Clarke’s numb limbs. “You must not blame yourself. Her wounds are severe. She may not regain consciousness.”

“Then send her back to our ship!” Clarke shouts, trying to sit upright. The blood starts to circulate as Beatrice works her way down each arm and leg. Clarke has the sensation of needles pricking her skin as her body comes back to life. “My mother could heal her. Please Mother Superior! You can’t let her just die!” 

“Shh,” Beatrice says soothingly. “The arrangements have been made. There is nothing more to do.” Clarke relaxes at her words.

“You fought well,” Beatrice says, getting up from her seat. She walks to the end of the bed and picks something up from the table there. Fingering Clarke’s modified communicator, the one keeping her ship from detecting her biosignal, she contemplates the wounded officer before her. “Don’t worry,” Beatrice says, picking up on her thoughts. “Your people’s sensors cannot penetrate these caves. There is no one coming for you anyway. You made your resignation clear to them.” Beatrice considers Clarke closely as her face falls thinking about her friends and family on the Ark.

“It has been several days since the first trial, Clarke. It has taken you many days to recover from the wound to your head. They are preparing to clear our atmosphere any day now, and then they will leave.” She puts the combadge back down on the table. “I give you one more opportunity to choose, Clarke. You still have time to return to them before they go. Or, you may stay. Finish my trials, knowing you will not see your people again.”

“But what about Octavia…” 

“Octavia is back with your people. She will likely still need their care by the time they are ready to leave. If she survives,” Beatrice adds pointedly. “Right now, we are talking about you. What do you decide?” Beatrice’s piercing eyes are beginning to unnerve Clarke a little less the more time she spends with her.

“I told you before,” Clarke says fiercely. “I’m not going anywhere.” Clarke can feel herself getting angry again. She wishes she could get in the ring with Beatrice next time. 

The Mother Superior meets her hostility with the same probing expression. She has no interest in fighting with Clarke, only to understand her. Clarke stops herself for a moment to unclench her fist. She isn’t exactly calm, but she is in control. It is hard work, as her mind wants to travel back and forth between her guilt over Octavia and her concern for Lexa’s injuries.

“Can you stand?” asks Beatrice, once Clarke no longer has the look of a wounded animal.

The question snaps Clarke out of her whirling thoughts. She tests her limbs one by one to be sure the blood is flowing again, and gingerly swings off of her bed and onto her feet. She is wobbly at first, but is able to stand upright without leaning on the wall after a few seconds.

When she seems more sure on her feet, Beatrice says, “Come with me,” and leads her through the cavernous corridors.

“Wait,” says Clarke hesitantly. “Can I see Lexa?” She bites her bottom lip waiting for Beatrice to answer. 

Beatrice nods. “But only for a moment,” she instructs.

“OK,” Clarke agrees eagerly. 

It turned out that Beatrice was not lying when she said Lexa was just in the next room. Beatrice opens the door they just passed, and motions for Clarke to go inside. She stands respectfully outside.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers, rushing to the sleeping figure in bed. Lexa’s soft breathing reassures Clarke more than she expects. Clarke examines her wounds, gingerly running her fingers across the deep purple bruises around her neck. What she wouldn’t give for a tricorder and dermal regenerator right now.

Not wanting to disturb her sleep, Clarke slips out of the room and rejoins Beatrice in the corridor. She nods in thanks, and they continue through the caves. Beatrice leads them to a small meditation room, complete with candles, cushions, and incense. Clarke is confused.

“What are we doing here?” she asks.

“In order for you to be ready for the next trial, you must clear your mind. If you cannot focus past your feelings, you fail as surely as this candle will one day be entirely consumed by the flame.” She looks at Clarke seriously, waiting to see what she will do.

_ Geez. Is everything a test with this woman? _ Clarke thinks. She can almost hear Beatrice in her mind answering  _ Yes _ .

“OK, what do I have to do?” she asks.

“Simply set aside your emotions,” Beatrice answers.

“Oh, that simple,” Clarke answers sarcastically. “Just bury them deep down like the Vucans, I suppose? So easy for a human like me,” she finishes by rolling her eyes dramatically.

Beatrice looks at her patiently, as though she were a child. As though Clarke is in pre-school, learning her alphabet for the first time. But Clarke somehow finds Beatrice’s patience reassuring rather than condescending. It’s as if Beatrice really is trying to help her.

“OK,” she says finally with resignation. Beatrice hasn’t said a word. “What I meant to say is - I don’t know how to do that.” She sighs, and her face turns pink. Though Clarke understands her own failings, she is loath to admit them. 

“Would you like me to show you?” Beatrice asks. “You would have to open your mind to me. It is your choice.”

_ Yeah, yeah. Everything is my choice, _ Clarke thinks with just a little resentment. Aloud, she says, “Sure, what the hell.” She knows Beatrice can see through her bravado.

“Very good. But I don’t know who these Vulcans are, but I said nothing about burying your emotions. I said set them aside. You do this because you must. Because you do not have the luxury or time to process your grief and pain. But this is a temporary measure. When we are finished with the trial, I can teach you how to make peace with your emotions, so that nothing must be buried or expressed impulsively. If you so chose.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to say. It is hard for her to comprehend that this is the same woman who pitted her against her friend only hours ago. That this is the same woman who has expressed so much opposition to her relationship with Lexa.

“May I ask you a question before we begin?” Beatrice asks, breaking Clarke’s reverie. The question isn’t a formality. Clarke understands that she is making a sincere request that Clarke may refuse.

“Go for it,” returns Clarke. Her first meeting alone with the Mother Superior has not been what she expected, and she is certainly curious about the woman and what motivates her.

“Do  _ you _ think you are worthy to lead my people?” Beatrice asks her. Clarke has the distinct sense that there is not so much a right answer, but that Beatrice wants to know how she really feels.

Clarke thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” she answers finally. “I know that I am worthy to wear the Federation uniform, to lead among my own people. I know I am worthy of Lexa’s love. But, it’s true, I don’t know your people very well. What they need. What inspires them.” Clarke pauses to gather her thoughts. “But I trust Lexa. I trust that she is worthy to lead your people, and that your people are always on her mind. She would have never chosen me if she could not entrust them to me. Because if anyone in this universe knows who I am, it’s Lexa.” Clarke reaches for Lexa’s presence down the hall instinctively, as she seeks the comfort and connection of their bond, missing for so many days. 

“But know this, Mother,” Clarke adds, “I understand what it means to live with other species. My best friend growing up was a Vulcan. My best friend now is Trill, and my other closest friends are half-Klingon. Believe me, if you knew anything about these species and their cultures, you would see how incredible it is that we can get along so well in the Federation. We know how to tolerate and even respect each other's differences.” Clarke’s eyes light up talking about her friends and the mission of peace of the Federation. “So, I guess what I’m saying is, I believe I could learn to be worthy.” 

Beatrice bows her head in acknowledgment of her answer. “Very well. Thank you for your honesty. Now, sit,” she orders, taking her own seat on a floor cushion. Clarke obeys, awkwardly plopping down onto the floor. “We will begin. Now, simply let go of your psychic resistance.” 

Clarke closes her eyes as she sits on the pillow, next to the woman Lexa calls “Mother.” The one who wants to know if she is worthy. Almost immediately, she can feel Beatrice’s presence, like a guest at the door of her mind, asking to be let in. Clarke lets her in. Once there is an open channel between them, Beatrice pulls Clarke’s attention to her more disciplined mind. Clarke feels like an insignificant passenger on the wing of a soaring bird.

For a long time, all they do is breathe together, until their heart rates match in a slow, stable beat. Clark loses all track of time inside the serenity of Beatrice’s mind.

_ Ready yourself _ , Beatrice announces finally, _ and observe. _

Clarke, a tiny mite nestled in the feathers of an eagle, watches as Beatrice deftly dismantles her own emotional control. Clarke is swept away by Beatrice’s worry for Lexa and her people’s future. The weight of her role as mentor and trainer to her disciples, which includes every member of the Order as well as Lexa’s War Council. Each thread of thought and emotion accumulates into a violent tornado, gathering steam as each new worry increases its strength. The result is terrifying. Clarke feels they will be overwhelmed by its force. All she wants to do is get away, but the more she fights it, the more it pulls her in.

But Beatrice doesn’t want to get away. She flies them straight to the center of the storm. Clarke finds herself where she started, mirrored in Beatrice’s emotional turbulence. Every which way she turns, the world around her is distorted by the thrashing winds. Her senses are completely overcome by the fear. Nothing beyond the storm looks as it should.

Clarke watches as Beatrice draws her attention to the pain, allowing her mind to be flung to and fro by its whim. And then she calms herself in the midst of the storm. She flies Clarke into an ever widening orbit around the tornado, breaking free of its terrible winds. Her perspective takes her beyond the storm. She observes its chaos for a moment. Calmly. It loses some of its force. 

Their sight is no longer obscured by the wind.

And then something incredible happens. Beatrice inhales the storm. She breathes in all that terrible wind and debris and then exhales. And the tornado dissolves as if it were a mere illusion. Without form or substance.

_ Now you try _ , Beatrice says after a while.  _ Confront your emotions and then set them aside by using your breath. It will take a little practice, _ she adds comfortingly.

So they spend the rest of the day together, Clarke practicing what she has been taught and Beatrice quietly scrutinizing her. For Clarke, her emotion isn’t a tornado, but a hurricane, battering her with flood and wind. Clarke starts to get used to it, though. At last, she is able to move her attention away from her feelings. She cannot get anywhere near Beatrice’s mastery, but it is a start. She feels her worry, but can trust herself, at least in this moment, not to act foolishly because of it. A start, indeed.

“Very good,” Beatrice says, finishing their session together. “Now you will return to your bed and rest. We start your trials again at first light tomorrow.”

Clarke is exhausted as she returns to her room deep in the caverns below Polis. She was only permitted to see Lexa again briefly. But it is enough. Clarke’s heart is full when her head hits the pillow. She desperately hopes that the next trial won’t involve too much physical exertion again. Her body is covered in bruises and cuts, and every movement triggers a sore muscle. She falls asleep before the servants arrive with her supper.

***

“Child, wake up,” Beatrice whispers urgently. There is a light thrumming in Clarke’s mind calling her to wake. As she surfaces to consciousness, she can hear a ringing bell. The sound pulls her out of the black.

“Wha-?” she mumbles, emerging from a very deep and dreamless sleep. It takes her a few seconds to come to her senses. But where is she? When she fell asleep last night, she was in a single bedroom, recovering from her trial. The room she is in now is much more spacious. And...her wounds. They’re gone. Confusion sweeps her already groggy mind.

“You must wake up, Clarke. I’m sorry, but we must suspend the trials for the moment.” Beatrice is sitting on a stool next to Clarke’s bedside. She looks exhausted. She peers around towards the door as if she’s waiting for someone. “Collect yourself. Lexa will be back soon. You would normally have more time to adjust before coming out of the trials, but we do not have such luxury. Please take a moment to adjust to your surroundings.” 

Clarke takes heed, sitting up and rubbing her face. She examines her body. She is not injured, other than a very sore posterior from her night’s ride. She reviews her memories since she left the  _ Ark _ . 

“Octavia?” Clarke asks with worry.

“Gathering with the other warriors of Polis. I apologize for the deception, Clarke, but this is the Order’s way. You needed to believe it was real so that I could judge your worthiness for myself. I believe your people call it a simulation.” Beatrice is looking at her with the same probing eyes. But they are also the eyes of a doctor towards a patient, a master towards her student. 

“So, it was a dream?” reality is dawning on her slowly, but surely.

“Of a sort. One that I shaped and that you shared together with Lexa. You would have known that it wasn’t real immediately if you could not sense Lexa through the bond. And, in any case, I needed to know your way together.”

“Did you get what you need?” Clarke asks insolently, feeling annoyed and embarrassed by the deception.

“I understand your anger, Clarke. But now is not the time. You would have come to understand the trials yourself had we been able to finish. So, to answer your question, no. I have not gotten what I need. But we must all adapt to changing circumstances. Lexa will need you. Whether I like it or not, you are her bondmate. So now you have the chance to prove you are up for the task,” Beatrice purses her lips. Clarke senses that she feels she is taking an extremely risky gamble, betting on Clarke.

“That fool of a woman has decided to challenge Lexa’s command tonight,” Beatrice explains. “I knew the moment the Azgeda marched to our gates to speak of alliances, that they came here under a ruse. Nia,” she spits. “The Azgeda are less trustworthy than the Sangeda. The Sangeda were at least satisfied with just their petty theft.” Clarke sees an image in her mind of Andre shoving Polis silverware into his pack. Beatrice shakes her head, then spends a moment composing herself, reining in the boiling hatred she feels for the woman who she considers murdered her daughter. 

“Clarke!” Lexa bursts into the room, looking better than she had when they said goodnight. But of course she would. Lexa hadn’t actually been wounded. Clarke has no idea how long she has been sleeping, or what time it is in the underground fortress, but having Lexa by her side makes none of that matter. “How do you feel?” She moves Beatrice aside next to Clarke’s bedside and kneels down to Clarke’s level. She takes Clarke’s hands in hers and kisses them tenderly. 

Clarke can only sigh in relief. She leans her forehead against Lexa’s, feeling her skin, smelling her scent. She must satisfy herself that this is real. That it is not all in her mind. 

Lexa indulges the closeness with Clarke for as long as she can before she breaks away. She has a duty to perform. She looks at Clarke with eyes of devotion. But her devotion isn’t to Clarke alone. It is also for the defense of her people and the city of Polis. And Clarke understands fully in this moment what it means to love the Heda.

“What are we waiting for?” Clarke asks, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. “We have to go teach that bitch that this city belongs to us.”


	17. Dawn

_ USS Ark _

“The sensors are picking up a small army on the move, Commander. It looks like the Azgeda are returning to Polis,” reports Ensign Murphy. He has been monitoring Polis from the  _ Ark _ since Clarke’s escape was discovered. His practiced fingers deftly operate the touch screen as he calibrates the sensors to further hone in on the area as he searches for Clarke and Octavia’s life signs among the inhabitants.

Kane sits down on the command seat in the bridge thinking. He cannot interfere with the civil matters of this world, and he has not received a request for help from Lexa or Beatrice. Besides, the crew already has its hands full preparing for their imminent departure. They are only days away from making the necessary preparations to implement the Order’s strategy to clear the atmosphere. Lt. Reyes and Lt. Wick are running the simulations now. If they can eradicate the radiation, the crew does not have to waste time reengineering the entire ship to function around it.

He spends a moment contemplating whether he is prepared to leave behind a member of his crew. And more importantly, is he willing to bring her aboard and take her against her clear will? For, as much as the Doctor has clung to the idea that Clarke is not fit to make her own decisions, Kane knows better. Kane senses no duress or coercion from the telepathic relationship between Lexa and Clarke. If he understands the bond correctly, it responds to one’s emotions, not the other way around. 

Kane surveys the officers on the bridge, a crew complement already incomplete without Wells, and sighs. He has always felt as though the crew of the starships he serves are like family. Losing Clarke would be like losing his own daughter. But Clarke has an actual parent on the  _ Ark _ , and Kane is not sure Abby will be able to let her go.

“Keep scanning, Ensign Murphy,” he orders, leaning back in his chair. For now, all he can do is watch and wait.

***

_ Polis _

The lit torches line the walls, illuminating the archers and blow gunners guarding the gates from the early morning intruders. Lexa’s warriors have already converged upon the city walls, readying their weapons and howling furiously before their brazen guests. The party could hear their chants resounding across the city.

“Nia!” Lexa roars as she approaches the gates. She had been deathly silent during their walk from the Lyceum. Now that she is face to face with Nia, however, she cannot contain her rage. It sparks out of her like lightning. 

The crowd goes quiet at Lexa’s thunderous cry. 

“Stay back,” instructs Beatrice to Clarke when she moves to join Lexa behind the parapet on the city walls. She pulls Clarke aside into an alcove behind the walls and hands Clarke a plain dark cloak like the guards wear that she pulls from its place on a hook. “Put this on. Hurry.” She looks around warily for spying eyes. “Nia doesn’t know that you’ve returned,” she explains. Now Clarke’s disguise is complete. Wearing Raven’s modified combadge, Clarke is already invisible to the  _ Ark _ ’s sensors. By covering her features, she ensures her anonymity among the Trigeda too. Clarke reaches instinctively for her combadge, the last relic of her former life. 

“She expects Lexa to be weak from your absence. That’s why she is taking her moment. Hmph,” Beatrice scoffs. “As if any of her warriors could best Lexa even on her worst day.” Clarke is inclined to agree with her. 

“We can use this to our advantage,” Beatrice conspires. “And be rid of Nia for good.” She spits. “Mark my word,” she vows coldly, “the Azgeda will have to carry Nia’s body home with them in a casket, and Roan will find himself an orphan on this day.” Beatrice fixes her cutting gaze beyond the walls to the army on the other side. “But Lexa will need your help. Already she succumbs to her fury.”

Clarke hopes she never has to face this more brutal side of Beatrice. Beatrice, after all, had never really put Clarke in any danger. And though her interference has been one headache after the other, Clarke knows that they must fight together now against a common enemy. One that Clarke hates for the pain she caused Lexa. So, though the brutality of the moment is shocking to Clarke’s Federation sensibilities, she cannot help but get swept away by the emotional currents around her. 

“Nia! What is the meaning of this?” they hear Lexa yell from the walls. Lexa’s warriors cry out menacingly towards the Azgeda, as if to punctuate Lexa’s outrage. 

“Commander Lexa,” Nia shouts back with mock respect. Her white gold crown glows in the torchlight. “I was beginning to think that you would not dare face me,” she laughs. Her pale skin glows with sickly malevolence. Her warriors laugh aloud behind her. Roan, standing at her side, smirks at his mother’s barbs. Beatrice is right - they are overconfident. 

“What do you want, Nia?” Lexa asks again coldly from her perch above. Her breath quickens at the sight of her hated enemy. Clarke can feel her own blood begin to boil. 

Beatrice rests a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, projecting her own steely calm and giving Clarke an anchor to resist the intensity of Lexa’s emotions. 

“Why to challenge you, of course,” Nia laughs maliciously. “You have proven before all the clans that you are too weak to secure the friendship of the aliens. They think you too small without the Azgeda. Why,” she pushes further, “ you can’t even hold onto a bondmate,” she laughs again cruelly. “How can you lead your people if you cannot even keep your own women? I’ve never heard of a Commander who lost one bondmate, let alone two,” she snickers. Nia is a woman who digs her knife more deeply into her opponent, if only to cause more pain.

“You are and have always been, a poor excuse for a Commander and the Azgeda can no longer stand by. Polis, and all of your territory will become our vassals.” Clarke understands empathically that Nia’s haughtiness is a strategy meant to enrage Lexa further. She hopes to torture Lexa with the memory of Costia’s loss.

_ Yeah, that sick bitch is going down, _ thinks Clarke to herself. Only yesterday, she was an officer of Starfleet and a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. A peaceful people. But right now, she feels Trigeda. And the Trigeda demand blood.  _ I’m going to shove this staff right up her nose _ , she continues, impulsively gripping her weapon tightly.

“Wait, Clarke,” interrupts Beatrice. “Do not let Lexa reveal you. We must set our trap first,” Beatrice advises. “Then you can do whatever you want to her with your staff.” She looks at Clarke deadpan, but the twinkle in Beatrice’s eyes is unmistakable. It is enough to break Clarke’s blood rage.

_ Is she messing with me?  _ Clarke thinks, blinking with disbelief. The stoic head of the Order is full of surprises, Clarke muses. 

Clarke quickly tells Lexa of their plan through the bond, before Lexa rashly reveals Clarke’s presence. She will not let Lexa take Nia’s bait so easily. The balance of power is about to shift on this planet, once the  _ Ark _ clears the upper atmosphere, and the Azgeda will soon find themselves the inferiors to the Trigeda’s advanced technology. If Clarke can help Lexa consolidate power now, it will save a lot of strife in the future. The protection of Polis is her responsibility too now, as she has abandoned her status as a neutral observer. She is Wanheda. She has picked a side.

“You have nothing to say in your defense, Heda? Is it because you know deep down that I’m right, and you don’t deserve to command?” Nia has misinterpreted Lexa’s strategic silence as proof that she has gotten under Lexa’s skin. Her arrogance reeks of ambition and recklessness. “Do you dare fight the Azgeda champion?” she asks. The warriors around Nia smirk and snicker. 

“I accept your challenge,” Lexa answers simply. “Your champion and witnesses may enter. We fight at dawn,” she states impassively. But Clarke can feel her cold anger. She can also feel Lexa’s sense of duty. Whether Nia plans to play fair or not, Lexa must accept the challenge. If not for her honor, then to appease her growing bloodlust

“If you guys hate each other so much, won’t the Azgeda think this is a trap?” Clarke whispers.

“It is tradition,” Beatrice answers. “Lexa’s defeat must be witnessed by the people of Polis. Nia knows that Polis respects the traditions, and that no harm will come to her before the challenge. Treacherous people like Nia are happy to rely on custom when it suits their advantage,” she adds disdainfully. 

“Come,” she orders. “We only have an hour to prepare. Lexa must not just defeat Nia’s champion; she must cow them into submission. Only then will the threat be over.” She starts to lead Clarke back towards the Lyceum.

“But what about Lexa?” Clarke asks, turning back longingly. She catches a glimpse of Lexa’s powerful figure against the torchlight. She stares, eyes full of admiration and lust. _Even afraid for her life, I want to bed her._ _Damn_. If not for Beatrice leading her by the sleeve of her cloak, Clarke would have missed the turn to their destination.

_ Tsk, _ Clarke can almost hear from Beatrice. “Don’t get distracted,” is all she says aloud, as she leads her through the Polis streets, already bustling with preparations for the battle. “The challenge will take place in the public arena. “But we must prepare first. Lexa will have her own preparations to make. It would be better if you left her to it. But just for now,” she adds reassuringly, when Clarke balks at withdrawing her connection with Lexa. 

“Can I ask you a question,” Clarke says after a few moments of silence maneuvering through the cobbled streets. Beatrice moves with the swiftness of a woman half her age. Clarke is out of breath as she keeps apace. 

“You want to know why Nia hates Lexa so much,” she states. 

“Yeah,” answers Clarke. “The question has crossed my mind. It just seems so personal between them.”

“For Lexa it’s personal,” explains Beatrice, as she leads them through the Lyceum plaza. “As you know, Nia kidnapped Lexa’s last bondmate, and was prepared to torture her to death.” Beatrice pauses to regain her own composure. “But for Nia, it is a feud that goes back many generations. It is what led to the Azgeda clan splitting into their own nation. Nia vowed when she was very young that she would be the one to get revenge for her family and she has been obsessed with it her whole reign. This way,” she directs, pausing her story as she leads Clarke up the stairs. 

Clarke follows obediently behind, her curiosity propelling her forward. 

“Have you heard the story of Commander Eder and his bondmate Onar?” she asks, turning to face Clarke as she opens the door to her meditation chambers.

“Yes. Lexa gave me their  _ Ballad _ to learn more about the bond,” Clarke answers. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

“Theirs was the generation that first lived without widespread use of the Blood Root, which awakens the ability to bond. We did not anticipate how fractious our society would become without our telepathic relationships. The Order was desperate for Heda Eder to find his bondmate in order to bring unity to our people. It didn’t matter who it was,” Beatrice says pointedly, as she gestures for Clarke to have a seat on the cushion next to hers. “But that proved to be disastrous for Geda society. First, Onar’s father did not approve the match. He felt that the Order had chosen wrongly, that his son Onar should have been named Heda instead. The thought of his son as the bondmate of the Heda was unacceptable to him. He did not understand the significance of the role. How could he? His own telepathic ability was intact, and he took it for granted. To him, a bond was ordinary, and he did not want his son to be reduced to the ordinary spouse of the ruler. That is how he thought, anyhow. It was pigheaded and misguided.” Beatrice speaks with the consensus opinion of all of the Mother and Father Superiors before her. 

“Onar’s father would have had him challenge Eder for the command, instead. He called his son home, and forbade him from seeing Eder again, unless it was to challenge him to battle. He did not realize that their bond had already become permanent. Or that Eder would place his own life at risk to get him back. After Onar returned to Polis with Eder, his clan eventually became the Azgeda. They have never forgiven the Order for ‘stealing’ their favored son. They have been the sworn enemies of the Commanders and the Order ever since. Later generations of Azgeda came to interpret the bond itself as an evil shadow cast over the Trigeda. They mean to ‘liberate’ us from that shadow.” Beatrice sighs deeply. No head of the Order had been able to solve this conflict over the past 150 years, even with their collective wisdom. And each failure had only served to pile on to the last. Cruelty had been uncommon in Geda society before the Eed’s destruction of their planet. For, how can one be cruel to another when they can feel the pain they have caused? It is like hurting oneself in such a society. But cruelty had prevailed in Azgeda culture, because of their hatred for the Order. 

“I remember reading about the rescue,” says an animated Clarke. She had always been curious about this part. “Eder had to scale a cliff to get to Onar, and he almost fell. The  _ Ballad  _ said that their bond saved him. What did that mean?” Clarke assumed it was some kind of metaphor, that the thought of their love kept him going, but now she wonders if it was more than that. 

“Yes, Clarke. It is more than a metaphor. Much more. Let me show you,” says Beatrice, answering her thoughts. Clarke considers what Beatrice might have learned about her as she rummaged through her mind during the Trials. 

Clarke follows Beatrice’s lead and sits down next to her, immersed in Beatrice’s tale.

“When Heda Eder started to lose his grip on the cliff face, Onar knew he was in danger. He channeled his strength into Eder, but at great cost to himself. Eder had to carry him back to Polis, and he remained unconscious for many days. This is because he was untrained. He did not know when or how to stop. This is what I will try to teach you in what little time we have - how to lend Lexa your strength without endangering your own life.” She pauses for a moment. “But I must warn you, Clarke. It is dangerous. You will have to rest for many days before you return to full strength. And remember, you always have a choice. Shall we proceed?” Beatrice looks at her without want or expectation. 

“What do I have to do?” Clarke asks, jaw set. She must prove to herself that she can do this. That she is making the right decision to stay here with Lexa. That Lexa chose correctly - that she truly is worthy to lead these people. 

Beatrice nods and they get to work, Beatrice teaching Clarke the fundamentals of telepathic transfer. It reminds Clarke of when she was a kid and her dad taught her how to swing a baseball bat, guiding her arms with his as she swung. Beatrice is doing the same in her mind, guiding her mental energy and showing her what it feels like to exchange energy with another. She is a patient, but exacting instructor. Clarke feels completely safe in Beatrice’s care, warm even. She is struck by the ease with which Beatrice has slipped from being her antagonist to her trusted ally. 

And the whole time, Clarke can sense Lexa making her own preparations. They do not speak to each other, but they do not leave each others’ telepathic side either. They had only just reunited and neither of them were willing to let the other out of her “sight.” Lexa’s affection only fuels Clarke’s determination. 

The hour passes quickly. Lexa is now in her throne room, Gustus fastening her armor. Clarke’s focus intensifies her own. Lexa is preparing herself to take a life. It horrifies Clarke even as she understands that it is sometimes even necessary in the Federation. Clarke has been in a number of starship battles. And even though she is not the one firing the torpedoes, she still bears responsibility for every ship the  _ Ark _ has ever destroyed as a member of its crew. Clarke’s hands aren’t pristine, but at heart, she is a biologist. Fundamentally, she is drawn to preserving life, not dispensing death. She knows Lexa feels her reservations. 

_ Do what you have to do. Just come back to me alive, _ Clarke reassures her through the bond.  _ I love you more than anything, you know. Don’t make me live without you.  _ The shockwave of obstinance from Clarke almost makes Lexa laugh out loud.

_ No one can stop me now _ , Lexa answers fondly, exaggerating her natural swagger for Clarke’s benefit.  _ Not Roan, not Nia. The Azgeda don’t stand a chance now that you are with me. _ Clarke can almost see her puffing out her chest like a Klingon bragging about their battles.

“It’s time,” says Beatrice, interrupting them. “Put this on.” This time, she hands Clarke the blue robes of a member of the Order.

“We will watch from the Order’s Podium at the top of the arena. You will blend in better this way. We will wait to reveal you.”

“OK,” nods Clarke. She thinks she knows what she is supposed to do. She was able to make some progress with Beatrice, but she was limited in how much she could transfer. Beatrice did not seem bothered. Quite the opposite, in fact. Beatrice seems confident that they will succeed. 

Clarke nervously dons the robes, feeling awkward in their fit. Beatrice spends a moment to correctly adjust them around her. She radiates quiet reassurance as she smooths the azure vestment and gently pulls the hood over Clarke’s head.

She considers Clarke for a moment. “Do you consider us brutal people, Clarke? Your distaste for violence is evident,” she says seriously.

Clarke thinks before she speaks. It is a habit she has picked up in spending time with Beatrice. “It’s true,” she answers. “I am a scientist, not a warrior. I prefer to talk my way out of problems if I can. But I am also an officer of the Federation. We defend ourselves when we must.” She pauses again, but this time for effect. “So if you think I would let my ‘distaste for violence’ stop me from using it to protect Lexa or your people, you would be mistaken.” She looks Beatrice boldly in the eye. “I think I already proved that.” Clarke can feel Lexa’s readiness for battle affecting her own mood. 

Beatrice simply nods at her response and begins to lead them out of the Lyceum, towards the sound of a chaotic, roaring crowd. The pink light of dawn peaks from the horizon, casting a pale glow onto the white marble buildings of Polis as Clarke and Beatrice weave through the city streets. Clarke keeps her head down so as not to betray her alien features. Though the people of Polis are surely empathically aware of her presence, the stoic Trigeda have kept this realization from their faces. They seem to understand that their Heda is setting a trap, and they are all eager to watch her spring it. With every lesson in concentration from Beatrice, Clarke’s awareness of the Trigedas’s emotional state increases to the point that she can sense this wordless communication between Lexa and her people. 

Arriving at the Polis coliseum, a large, circular, open air arena, Beatrice leads her up a raised platform, the Order’s Podium. Clarke blends in easily with the other blue-robed members of the Order. Everyone bows as she and Beatrice approach.She sits down next to the Mother Superior and takes a moment to absorb the view before her. The seats of the coliseum are filling rapidly, and the noise makes it difficult to hear the conversations of the people around her. Across from them is another Podium, where Nia and her entourage are already waiting. The animus from Nia is palpable to Clarke’s heightened sensitivity. It cuts through all of the background emotion of the crowd around them by its sheer intensity. 

The crowd goes from loud to deafening when Lexa and Roan enter the arena, side by side as equals. The beating of massive, foreboding drums signal their entrance to the challenge, a match to the death for the right to command. Beatrice places her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, calming her nerves. She closes her eyes and focuses inward, to her bond with Lexa.

_ Clarke _ , guides Beatrice one last time.  _ Lexa can defeat Roan with or without your help. This is your last opportunity to choose to walk away.  _ When Clarke doesn’t flinch, she continues.  _ Very well. You must use what I have taught you. I can only lend you my own calm. You will have to do the rest on our own. But Clarke, wait for the right moment. _

_ Yes, Mother. _ She allows Beatrice’s inner confidence to buoy her above the chaos of the coliseum. The noise around her muffles to background static as Clarke focuses on her breath and Lexa. Attuning herself to Lexa’s own senses, Clarke can almost see the world through Lexa's eyes. When Lexa discovers her ‘presence,’ she emits a crackle of fierce, electric warmth that sends an exhilarating electrochemical wave up and down Clarke’s body, giving her goosebumps and standing the hair on her skin on end. 

_ I love you, Clarke. _

_ Then finish this fast. And come back to me in one piece. _

_ Tell me again that you will never leave. _

_ I will never leave you. _

_ Then you are mine? _

_ I am yours, Lexa, and you are mine. _

_ Yes. _

Lexa’s eyes shine with such hungry confidence as she looks at Roan that when the drums beat again to signal the start of the match, his knees are already weak, his light skin growing paler. Clarke watches mentally from her perch above, maintaining her link with Lexa and preparing herself to transfer her strength. She can almost see the shine of Roan’s black fur-lined armor, hear the squeak of its leather as he springs into action. 

She observes impassively as Roan makes his first feeble attacks, slashing at Lexa with his sword, and almost tripping over himself. Lexa’s powerful presence seems to take over the entire coliseum, sending the crowd into further frenzy as they watch the battle begin. 

Roan seems to recover himself and appears to take a more measured approach to Lexa’s defenses. Their swords clash as they test each other, Lexa taking the stance of a cat playing with her food. Food that hasn’t yet realized that it is prey. Then, remembering Clarke’s admonition to end the battle quickly, she goes on the offensive, feigning an attack overhead before whirling into a side swipe at his gut. He dodges, but not before Lexa gets a piece of him and first blood. 

Clarke tests herself and sends a trickle of her strength towards Lexa, who is now blocking Roan’s quick, ferocious blows. By now, he surely understands that this is not the weakened Lexa he expected. And Lexa can smell his fear surely as any predator. Clarke can feel Lexa’s reflexes sharpen as she transfers her psychic energy.

Roan leaps back, out of range of Lexa’s weapon, and produces a set of knives from his bracers, throwing each one in quick succession towards Lexa. Rolling out of the way, Lexa springs to her feet and charges at Roan, who is preparing a counter attack. One of the knives managed to nick her in the side of the throat, and blood starts to trickle down her neck as she lunges at him.

_ Now or never _ , thinks Clarke to herself, pushing down the rage she feels at Roan drawing Lexa’s blood.  _ Let’s give this crowd a show. _ She’s not exactly clear on what will happen, but she has seen for herself what happens to their bond when their emotions are heightened. Clarke opens the channel and lets her energy flow into Lexa.

Roan blocks Lexa’s attack and counters with a spinning slash. Lexa leaps backward, dodging his blade. They are facing each other, ready for the next attack when Lexa’s skin starts to glow. The crowd goes dead silent, transfixed by her powerful presence. Clarke can feel Lexa’s heartbeat quicken and adrenalyn surging. Lexa’s light grows brighter. Not just the light emanating from her skin, but another light. One that permeates the emotional backdrop of everyone present. Clarke can see herself in that light.

Lexa seizes on the moment and drives Roan back, slashing furiously with newfound strength. She now has the power of two. He stumbles and falls backwards, dropping his weapon. It falls with a clang on the hard arena floor. The sound echoes like an omen.

Roan looks up at Lexa with terrified awe. “I yield,” he says, bowing his head in offering to Lexa’s blade.

Lexa considers him for a moment. The battle over, Clarke emerges from her meditation, woozy and lightheaded. She tries to stand, but her legs are uncertain. Beatrice catches her before she falls, standing her upright against the railing of the Podium, so that she can see the events unfolding with her own eyes. 

“You did well,” she whispers, a small smile creeping from the side of her mouth. Her eyes transfix upon Nia once Clarke is secure.

When Lexa doesn’t strike him down at once, Roan gets off his back and kneels before Lexa. “Heda. I yield,” he repeats.

“No!” Nia shrieks from her seat. “I do not accept it.” She removes her robes and marches down to the arena in a rage, her dirty blond hair falling out in wisps from her bun. The Trigeda remain silent as they watch the Ice Queen confront Lexa. When she approaches her son, she grabs his fallen sword and points it towards Lexa. “How are you doing this? Your bondmate is gone. Everyone knows this.” Her voice is desperate and shrill. She cannot accept the loss. She planned too carefully for this to happen.

Clarke removes her hood and stares at Nia. She uses the last ounce of her strength to remain upright and meet Nia’s gaze with cold disregard.

“Wanheda,” murmur voices in the crowd, until her name becomes a chant .

Nia screams and charges Lexa in her fury. Lexa easily beats her back and disarms her. She is now at Lexa’s mercy. The ghost of Costia flashes before Lexa’s eyes. Her bloodthirst chokes Clarke, who can only see the situation as Lexa about to strike an unarmed woman dead. This is not self defense. It stops Lexa in her tracks. She doesn't want Clarke to look at her that way. 

But blood must have blood.

“I take my right of vengeance,” declares Beatrice suddenly in her booming voice. Then, without another word, she produces a dagger from her robes and throws it into Nia’s throat. When Nia’s limp body slumps to the ground, she turns and walks away, back towards the Lyceum. Lexa and Roan look at each other wide-eyed as Nia’s blood spreads across the ground. 

“The Queen is dead,” announces Lexa. “Honor has been satisfied.”

The crowd roars. Lexa and Roan consider each other for a moment. Then he nods and says, “I accept the loss,” before he bows and leaves the arena. Azgeda warriors arrive to remove the Queen’s lifeless body.

When it’s over, Clarke and Lexa look at each other, their hearts brimming with devotion. They can hear each other’s hearts beat in unison. In that moment, they understand that they will never part again. They both know it with complete certainty. Clarke’s own body starts to warm, from the inside out. Then, Clarke’s arms begin to feel like they are burning and her legs buckle underneath her. Something shifts inside her. She uses her last remaining strength to stifle a scream.

“I’ve got you,” whispers Gustus, appearing from nowhere and catching her before she falls. Then everything goes black.

***

In Clarke’s dreams, she is a child again. Her father has returned safely from an away mission and brought her some interesting flowers for her collection. A feeling of innocent safety washes over her. Then she is Lexa, in the Lyceum and receiving lessons from Beatrice. Her awkward preteen body sits uncomfortably in the cushion, fidgeting wildly until Mother scolds her to sit still. She doesn’t understand why everyone is treating her differently now that she has passed her trials. 

Memories flow like this for what seems like an endless night. Her life and Lexa’s unfold before her in a fever dream that jumbles and reorganizes their lives. Now she is at Starfleet Academy, sneaking out with her friends past curfew. She knows she is sleeping but she cannot wake. Time passes, but she has no sense of it. But throughout it all is the sense that Lexa is with her.

And the burning.

***

_ Clarke _ , Lexa prods, calling her to consciousness. She is close. So very close.

“Hmm?” Clarke’s eyes flutter and she takes a sudden deep breath. She is disoriented when she finally opens her eyes to Lexa leaning over her with concern, holding her hands in her own.

“Lexa,” she says with a sigh, smiling despite herself. For it takes only a moment for her to become aware again of the pain on her skin, her arms now more sore than aflame.

When she looks down at herself, she gasps. All along the outside of both arms, starting from her shoulders and reaching to her wrists, are raised spiral patterns resembling burn scars. The pattern matches that of the Trigeda, though the rest of her skin has retained its original texture. 

“The bond,” she says. “The genetic mutation is complete now isn’t it?” She marvels at the transformation. She doesn’t need Lexa to answer. She knows already. She knows in the core of her being that they are permanently bound. That she is forever changed.

Lexa nods quietly. Clarke can feel her trepidation, though she is trying valiantly to hide it. 

Clarke looks up at her. “Come here,” she commands, pulling her closer. When Lexa’s lips reach hers, the world stops. The pain stops. All that exists is Lexa and her abiding love for Clarke. And she knows that Lexa is feeling the same in mirror reverse. This is what she has chosen. She has no regrets.

They are so lost in each other’s lips that don’t notice when Gustus knocks and then enters. 

“I apologize,” he says, sorry for having interrupted their moment. “But I cannot keep her out any longer. She insists on examining Clarke now that she is awake.” He has the look of a man who has just weathered an unrelenting tempest. 

So, true to form, Abby storms into the room. “Clarke,” she exclaims, relieved to see her daughter awake. She stops short, however, embarrassed, when she catches sight of her daughter and Commander Lexa. Their hands are clasped tightly together, their faces close, cheeks flushed. Clarke is practically glowing with happiness. Lexa’s eyes sparkle with adoration. Abby’s breath catches in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back.” She looks back and forth between Clarke and Lexa, and starts to turn around back to the door.

“Mom,” exclaims Clarke, surprised, releasing Lexa’s hands.

Lexa stands up. “Doctor, please wait. Come in. I should be the one apologizing. I never got around to telling Clarke that you were here,”she says abashed, the red in her cheeks deepening. There are a great many things she forgets about when Clarke is near. “I’ll leave you to your examination.” Then she tenderly kisses Clarke’s forehead, bows to Abby, and leaves mother and daughter to themselves. Clarke watches her affectionately as she leaves, smiling and bright-eyed.

Abby and Clarke look quietly at each other for a moment, the silence louder than any sound. Leaning on her professionalism to get her through the awkwardness, Abby pulls out her tricorder and starts to take Clarke’s readings.

“Your vitals are returning to normal, though what normal is now for you still remains to be seen. Are you still in pain?” she asks, pulling out a hypospray.

“A little,” Clarke admits. “How long was I out?”

“Over a day,” Abby answers, administering the medication on her neck. Clarke can see the dark lines under her eyes and her unkempt hair. She suspects her mom hasn’t gotten any sleep since she’s been unconscious. 

“But I don’t understand. When did you get here?” 

“Commander Lexa called us soon after you passed out. They expected that you would be fatigued, but they didn’t expect the bond to change you physically. They didn’t understand what was happening. So they called me.” Abby’s eyes betray her worry. “I’ve been monitoring you. Lexa wouldn’t let me take you back to the ship, not without her anyway, so I have been here ever since.”

Clarke nods at her explanation.

“She hasn’t left your side, you know. Lexa.”

“I know,” Clarke answers. “Even in my dreams, I knew she was with me.” Clarke looks at her mother earnestly, hoping beyond hope that she can accept her decision without a fight. 

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Clarke,” she says simply, thinking about the hole her husband’s loss had already left behind.

Clarke tries to stand up, so that she can comfort her mother, but she is still too weak, struggling even to stand. Abby rushes to her instead and puts her back in bed.

“I love you, Mom,” Clarke says finally. “But I’m not going back to the Ark. This is my life now.” She is gentle but firm.

“I know,” Abby answers, her voice catching. “I don’t think I've ever seen you this happy,” she admits. “I think you two will have a very good life together,” she says, starting to cry.

Clarke tearfully embraces her, and they hold each other like that, sobbing, for a good long while.

***

The next morning, Carke wakes up with a start. Anticipation is in the air. She looks down to see Lexa still snoozing at her bedside, body slumped over Clarke’s lap. Clarke leans back and listens to her light snoring, finding comfort in her physical presence. She is smiling and stroking Lexa’s hair when Beatrice knocks lightly and enters. Lexa grumbles and holds Clarke more tightly at the disturbance. Clarke and Beatrice share a fond, knowing look at Lexa’s response.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Wanheda,” Beatrice states formally. 

Lexa stirs again and pulls herself from her dreams. She sits up, disoriented at first. When she sees Beatrice, she instantly collects herself. She looks at Beatrice expectedly.

Beatrice gives her a slight nod.

Lexa smiles and gives Clarke a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back later,” she says to Clarke. She kisses her hands one by one.

“What’s going on?” Clarke asks.

“This is the last Trial, Clarke,” Beatrice answers simply. 

Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hands before she leaves.  _ I love you. _

Clarke watches her leave, her sense of anticipation growing. 

“So, what do I have to do?” she asks, bracing herself for whatever punishment Beatrice plans on inflicting. 

“I would have you show me your life,” Beatrice answers. “That is the Trial.”

“Huh?” Clarke doesn’t understand.

Beatrice sits down in the chair Lexa had just occupied and looks intently into Clarke. 

Taking her hand, she says, “If you are to be my daughter, I would like to know you first. It is the ancient way of our people. I would share in your victories and sorrows, if you will let me.” She bows her head. “And in turn, I would share my own. That is the Trial.”

She gives Clarke a moment to consider her words.

“Does this mean…,” Clarke stops, getting a little emotional. “Does this mean that we have your blessing?”

Beatrice nods. “You are Worthy.” It is a simple statement of fact.

Relief washes over Clarke and a single tear trickles down her cheek. It means more to her than she expected. She nods her acquiescence to Beatrice’s request.

It takes the entire day. With Beatrice’s help, Clarke accesses memories from her childhood, both the important and mundane. Beatrice sees it all. Her time as a Starfleet brat growing up on starships. Starfleet Academy. Her father’s death. Wells. It is a strange experience, more intense than a mind meld, and somehow less traumatic. Because of the training she received from Beatrice, Clarke is able to observe the building blocks of her life without getting drawn into their emotional lures and traps. She understands why this is the final Trial. She simply could not have endured it without learning what she did from the others. 

Beatrice wastes no time once she has absorbed the impressions of Clarke’s life. She bows her head in appreciation and says, “I offer you my life in return,” words that ring of an ancient practice from a people long ago. 

Clarke is instantly transported by Beatrice’s telepathic power to the birth of a Child. When the Child is born, they call the Child “boy” and name him “Bader.” Bader is a precocious and outspoken Child. Clarke watches Bader grow, receiving the special attention of the Order and his Father Superior. Soon after Bader’s fifth birthday, he became troubled. He began to question the wisdom of his superiors.

A mistake had been made. 

And Bader's young mind doesn’t know how to reconcile his reverence towards his teachers with such an obvious error. How could they fail to see what Bader could so easily see. Bader was not a boy at all.

So, Bader did what he was good at. Bader spoke the truth. When Bader approached the Father Superior with these thoughts, Father looked at him for a long time with his all-seeing eyes. When he was finished, he said, “Please forgive our mistake.” 

From that moment on, Bader was no more. Only Beatrice, her heart no longer troubled.

Then before puberty, Clarke watches the Council give her the Blood Root. It opened her mind and told her body to listen to her truth. She changed, her DNA responding to that truth as though it were second nature. Clarke experiences Beatrice’s deep reverence for the Blood Root and everything that it means for her people.

Clarke watches with particular interest as Beatrice receives the training to become the next Mother Superior. He had chosen her a long time ago. When Beatrice finally assumes her power and responsibility, the precocious Child has become a formidable woman. A woman whose presence inspires awe, but also fear. Beatrice is a woman not afraid to wield her power, sometimes with brutal efficiency if her people’s survival demands it. 

But there was also deep affection in Beatrice’s life. The children she raised. And Costia. Clarke observes unflinchingly as Beatrice watches Costia grow and fall in love with a much younger and more awkward Lexa. Beatrice had grown to put all of her hopes for her people into Costia and Lexa. She had performed her duty and prepared the next generation.

Costia’s loss was devastating. Part of Beatrice died with her.

When Clarke emerges from the Trial, she finds tears streaming down her face and smudges them with her sleeve. “I’m sorry,” she says hoarsely, empathizing with her loss.

Beatrice pats Clarke on the head. They are closer now that they have shared so much.

“The trials are over now. You have fulfilled your duty honorably.” She gets up and bows to take her leave. “By the way,” she says as she goes. “Both Andre and Roan have sent word. They want to resume talks of an alliance.”

“But the Federation is leaving,” Clarke says, confused.

“They are aware,” Beatrice replies. “But you are not. Apparently, Andre is keen to deal with you, and Roan believes it is in the Azgeda’s best interest to align with Heda and Wanheda. The next few weeks will be busy. Gather your strength.” 

Clarke smiles wryly, speechless and amazed. 

***

“Wick to Reyes,” the Ark’s intercom startles Raven awake.

“Hm?” She stirs.

“Hey Raven, were you planning on reporting to Engineering this morning or what?”

Raven sits up in bed. Niylah turns over next to her.

Grabbing her combadge, she responds to Wick with only “Be right there.”

“Acknowledged,” he replies, a little testy.

“Do you have to go so soon?” Niylah asks, rubbing her eyes. Raven clears Niylah’s messy morning hair from her eyes.

“Today is a big day,” she answers sadly. “We’re going to fix your atmosphere.” And then the Ark would leave, once the job is done. They are beaming an entire delegation from Polis to observe the process.

Raven hurries out of bed and dresses quickly into her uniform.

“Will I ever see you again?” Niylah asks.

“I hope so,” Raven answers hoarsely. “You’ll be at the ceremony?”

Niylah nods. Raven kisses her deeply and leaves her quarters. Niylah knows her way.

When she arrives at Engineering, her team is already assembled and running their last simulations. It turned out that the Trigeda had indeed figured out how to rid their atmosphere, a feat that the Ark was easily capable of performing, thanks to Raven’s ship modifications, allowing their technology to function. 

Clarke and Lexa arrive first, along with Gustus and Octavia. Then a delegation of the Order beams over, including the Mother Superior. Captain Jaha and Commander Kane are there to receive them. Clarke gives Raven a tight hug when she sees her. There is excitement among the members of the Order, as they peer, fascinated, at the Ark’s systems. 

Everything goes as planned. Raven and Wick run test after test. The Order’s historians have brought their own machines. A music player and what looks like a communication device. They turn on. The Trigeda dance to the ancient tune as it plays in celebration. Beatrice looks on with satisfaction.

The celebration goes long into the night. The Federation and Trigeda share in their triumphs. The Trigeda because their planet is finally free from radiation, the Federation because they will finally be free of the planet and resume their mission. It is bittersweet for Clarke. She must say goodbye to these crewmates, her family. Lexa senses her sadness and puts her arms around her.

Commander Kane sees the couple and walks over to pay his respects. “Clarke, it’s good to see you recovered from your ordeal.” He looks her over with fatherly concern. 

“Thank you Commander,” she answers. “I just want you to know...it was an honor to serve with you.” She gives him a small smile and takes a deep breath. This is going to be difficult.

“I feel the same Lieutenant,” he replies. “We will be exploring this part of the galaxy for several more years, now that our power stores are full again. I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t come back to this planet on our way back to Earth,” he says casually.

Clarke’s eyes brighten. “You would be welcome back any time,” she says.

“The Federation will always be considered friends, Commander Kane,” Lexa adds.

“Good,” he says, pleased with himself. “Then it is settled. This is not goodbye, Clarke. It is ‘see you later.’ OK?”

“OK,” she says, holding back tears. She hugs him before he returns to the rest of the delegation.

Clarke, Bellamy, Raven, and Octavia stay up well into the night, playing their last game of poker together and reminiscing about old times. Clarke watches as Raven and Niylah sneak looks at each other from across the room. She examines Niylah closely. She has an idea. Lexa agrees.

When the friends finish their final game, Clarke calls Niylah over. Lexa follows.

“What’s going on, Clarke?” Raven asks.

Clarke gives Lexa a look.

“Niylah,” Lexa says at Clarke’s instruction. When Niylah approaches the group, she bows to Clarke and Lexa shyly. “There is something I would like you to do for me. Do you wish to serve your people?”

“Of course, Heda,” answers Niylah, her head bowed, unsure of the situation unfolding. 

“I would like to send an ambassador with the Federation. Someone to represent our people as they travel our galaxy, and eventually to their home. Are you interested in the position?”

Niylah looks wide-eyed at Raven, who nods her head vigorously. 

“I accept,” she answers, smiling widely. “I must go tell my father and prepare to leave,” she says.

So it is settled. Captain Jaha accepts the arrangement and prepares a quarters for Niylah. Raven can’t stop smiling at her friend.

Everyone says their goodbyes.

***

When it is time for the Polis delegation to beam back home, Clarke lingers, the last to beam out. She still has to say goodbye to her mother. Even with the Ark returning in a few years, this will still be the longest amount of time they will be apart and out of contact. 

“You’ll take care of yourself?” Abby asks, trying very hard not to break up.

“I will,” Clarke promises. “Try not to get too lonely, OK?”

“I’ll be OK,” Abby lies. “You just be happy. Live your life and be happy. Knowing that will make me happy.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, Clarke, Never forget it.”

“I love you too.” Clarke’s voice is getting hoarse. 

Abby hands her her Federation kit, complete with her tricorder, dermal regenerator, medical supplies, and phaser. “These are yours,” she insists. “You’re going to need them. Wanheda.” Abby’s eyes glisten with grief.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

“Energize,” Abby orders.

***

Clarke doesn’t sleep. She lays awake until just before dawn, then she gets dressed and walks out to the terrace outside of their quarters at the top of the Citadel. Lexa silently joins her, wrapping her in an embrace from behind.

At exactly 0600 hours, the Ark successfully takes off, breaking free of their atmosphere. She stays outside, looking to the sky well past the time it is a mere speck. Her heart sinks. Lexa holds her more tightly.

Dawn breaks.

Clarke turns to face Lexa and kisses her deeply in the pink-orange light.

“We should try to get some more rest,” Lexa says after a while, as Clarke rests her head on her chest. “We have many long days ahead of us.” She gently strokes Clarke’s cheek. The brightening sun reflects off of the marble Polis buildings in a brilliant light. 

Clarke pulls Lexa back towards their bed, and disrobes her. She has other ideas on how to spend the rest of their first morning together.

_ I love you, Clarke. _

_ Show me. _

Lexa obeys.

-Fin-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me with this fic! 
> 
> I really appreciate everyone who has cheered me on. Your comments really helped!
> 
> Future plans for the Series:  
> I definitely have more stories to tell about the Trigeda and Federation. I want to work on a couple of new projects that have been brewing in my brain before I continue, though, so I am going to mark this as complete for now. When I do return to writing Star Trek: The 100, I will probably start with some shorter, more episodic stories about Clarke's adjustment to her new life as well as the adventures on the Ark. Then, when the Ark swings back around to their planet, I plan to put out another full-length fic. But this is in the medium future. 
> 
> I will likely do a copy edit of the entire fic in the next couple of months.
> 
> Thanks again for your support!
> 
> Jos


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